


How To Save A Life

by Reda



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Relationships, Drama, Eventual Smut, Historical Hetalia, M/M, Mentions of concentration camps, Minor Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Romance, World War II, one scene at an actual camp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 64,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reda/pseuds/Reda
Summary: In the height of World War II, Prussia is pulled from the front to babysit a captured nation. Canada can’t believe he’s been caught, and when he finds out Prussia is the one put in charge of him, he’s terrified and wary because the Allies have made the albino nation out to be a corrupted monster. But people aren’t always what they seem, and sometimes love can bloom in the most unlikely places.
Relationships: Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)
Comments: 144
Kudos: 200





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Holocaust/concentration camps will be a thing that we see at some point and they are referenced to quite a bit; you have been warned
> 
> A/N: I will try my best for historical accuracy. Nonetheless anachronisms will no doubt exist I'm sure, especially in their speech. Plus the dates are kinda smudged but ahhhhh I try.

1

It’s a chilly late autumn evening in Berlin in the year 1942 when Prussia climbs out of the motorized vehicle, gives a halfhearted wave to the driver, and walks up to stand at the bottom of the steps leading to the large office building. Being called from the front lines and having to change into his blue Waffen-SS uniform already has him in a bad mood. Knowing that his brother is going to make him wait even longer for an explanation, even before he walks in and is told this much, has him scowling at the brick, stone, and mortar building in front of him.

“This is fucking stupid,” he growls as he adjusts his black hat to where it’s wrongly situated off to the side. “It better be a good reason this time.”

With a huff, Prussia ignores the look from a passing fellow military officer, and walks up the large steps into the building. He knows exactly where to go already, and the silver cords on his own uniform give him clearance to walk pretty much wherever he wants at this point. If they have an issue with an albino wearing officer rankings, they can fight him. He’d welcome a good throw down after all he’s had to deal with today.

“Damn propaganda bullshit,” he mutters as his boots click on the polished floor with each step he takes. “Wish they’d stop that narrative already.”

Soon enough he arrives at West’s office area and after announcing his arrival to the secretary, he plops down on a nearby bench and crosses one leg across the other one. She’s staring at him, too. It’s someone new this time. Keh. How many does that make? Four? Five? He hopes they’re getting promoted and not sent off somewhere for disobeying some bullshit rule. The camps are being used to keep the citizens in fear, to make examples of even the smallest mistakes, and Prussia isn’t sure if his baby brother is in control enough to keep the propaganda from infecting him, too.

It’s sad that’s he’s not sure. He should be sure. West is his  _ brother _ . He practically raised him and helped him unite all the German states into one country; hell, Prussia itself as a nation is effectively abolished at this point. If he weren’t so scared of disappearing, he’d have given over to mortality like some of the others. But no, he’s here to keep an eye on West, to advise him, lead him in the right direction.

Right?

Even as he thinks the reassuring phrases, he rolls his eyes and huffs, glaring at the floor, tapping his finger against his leg. Things aren’t exactly working out as he hoped. There’s too much that makes him sick with this new way of doing things. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like coming back to it where he can feel the fear of average citizens. It’s suffocating.

He should be back on the front lines anyway. Fighting is what he’s  _ good _ at it. It’s his talent. This political bullshit drives him nuts and he’s lost so much control over  _ that _ aspect of Germany already. Besides, on the battlefield, he can forget about all the atrocities going on outside the cities. He can forget about the fear. He can get lost in a good fight, especially now that he’s against Russia. He’d prefer to go back and spend the whole war there.

Damn it.

After what feels like a lifetime of waiting, the secretary lady calls him over and nods toward the door. “General Beilschmidt will see you now.”

Without responding to her – who knows how long she’ll be in this position; best not to get close at this rate – Prussia strides his way into Germany’s office and lets the door crash behind him. “Yo, West, I’m not sure how I feel about being recalled from the front. It’s a nightmare and all but I think we were faring better with my awesome self there.”

West barely looks up at his entrance. He’s busy at his varnished wood desk, organizing papers. He’s wearing his full green uniform, the one that matches Prussia’s current one, oh and there’s the red armbands that they’re all required to wear, too. Some loyalty bullshit oath to the current leader, someone Prussia doesn’t particularly like anymore. But someone his baby brother adores far, far too much.

“Bruder,” West says at last as he stands up and walks around to make sure there’s nothing between them. “We have a more important job for you now.”

“Hah?” Prussia’s eyebrows go up. “What’s more important than fighting with our soldiers?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment, and Prussia feels his thoughts drift. He immediately tenses. No, no way, he’s going to refuse if it’s to go back to one of  _ those _ places. He can get away with refusing because of who he is, right?

“I swear,” he murmurs in a low voice. “If you send me to one of those camps again...”

To his relief, West shakes his head. “I’m fine with handling that myself. No, there’s been a turn of events. We’ve got one of them.”

Seeing those blue eyes harden into such piercing ice makes Prussia wince as he tilts his head. “One of ‘them’?”

“The allies,” West explains. “We caught him with a group of spies.”

Oh. That’s a new one. It wouldn’t surprise him if it were Arthur, honestly. That idiot always did like to act as if he were a perfect spy. Dumbass probably went somewhere obvious and West picked up on him in an instant.

Still, this late in the war it’s a good thing to run across some luck. Things have been difficult since America joined the fray. Little bastard playing hero to his precious England, no doubt. Prussia rolls his eyes even as these thoughts play through his head.

“You mean you’ve got one of the other nations in captivity, huh?” He blinks, then narrows his eyes. “Wait. What are you expecting me to do?”

West leans back against the desk and crosses his arms. “Watch him. Try to get information out of him, hopefully, but mostly just make sure he doesn’t escape to relay whatever he managed to pick up from us.”

Prussia growls and leans in, shoving a finger at his brother. “I’m not here to be some fucking babysitter, West.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s your new assignment.”

“Are you serious? You pull me from the war front to do, what, sit around and watch some...” Drifting off but keeping the scowl on his face, he waves his hand in the air and changes his words mid-thought. “Which one is it anyway?”

“Canada,” West answers, though his eyes are too damn hard to be talking to an older brother; what happened to respecting one’s elders? Damn. “He seems pretty quiet. You’ll have an easy time with him.”

_ Easy time torturing him for intel, you mean _ , Prussia thinks and glares down at the floor.

He feels a little more tense than usual talking to his baby brother. He shouldn’t. West shouldn’t make him feel so uncomfortable. The damn monster effect has him in its grip. Prussia has snapped before, so he understands, but that’s usually on a battlefield when the blood is spraying and screams are all around and the  _ thrill _ takes over and -

Well, West is different. His stance is far too relaxed for this whole situation and he, Prussia, is the one feeling tense. Fucking hell. He doesn’t like what this new boss has done to his brother. What sometimes comes out in  _ him _ now.

“Mmf. I don’t know much about finding it easy,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck before giving in with a sigh. “Where is he being held?”

“Your house,” West states matter-of-factly. “We have men surrounding the perimeter for now and they’ll follow your orders once you get there.”

In an instant, Prussia snaps up to his full height and clenches his fists by his side. “What? He’s at  _ my _ place? Are you fucking kidding me?”

The glare is harsher than expected, but Prussia stands his ground, even as West’s voice drops in volume and tone. “I don’t joke. You should be more proud of this.”

“Don’t tell me what I should be proud of!”

It shouldn’t surprise him that West doesn’t appreciate these words, this sentiment. His monster is too much in control. Prussia can see it clear as day now when his baby brother frowns, blue eyes piercing ice into his soul, and proceeds to stand up and practically tower over him.

Right. Prussia may be the older brother here, but West is taller. And bulkier. And more intimidating with this look than, well, than anyone else he knows at least. Getting that look sent toward  _ him _ kind of hurts, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

There’s nothing he can do.

“You should be proud,” West intones, in that dangerous voice of his; yep, the monster is in full effect; against  _ him _ . Fuck. “Proud of the fact that you’ve been given a new, much more  _ important _ , assignment.”

_ More important my ass. _

The words don’t break from Prussia’s gritted teeth. He can’t make them come out. He’s successfully intimidated by his younger brother. So much for being the adviser. He can’t even stand up to him anymore.

Pathetic.

“Damn it, West,” he growls, even as he steps back and feels his shoulders shrink under the pressure. “I’m better at fighting! Let me fight! Why do you keep recalling me for random small shit like this?”

It’s a last ditch effort. It sounds like a whine. He doesn’t care. Apparently, if he reads the look right in West’s cold, blue eyes, West doesn’t care either. A shudder runs up his spine and Prussia has to pull his gaze away.

‘ _ You know why’  _ the look said.  _ ‘You know.’ _

_ Yeah, I know, all right. Fucking propaganda bullshit making even you not trust me because of how I look now, is that it? _

He can’t say the words. He can’t challenge him. He wants to hang on to hope. Maybe that’s not what he read. Maybe West doesn’t actually believe the bullshit. Maybe it’s all just in his head because of what the citizens are going through right now. That fear  _ is _ suffocating, like smog filling his lungs and head as he tries to process and think through it all.

West’s voice is harsh and cold enough to make him wince again. “Just do the job.”

So he turns his back to avoid letting his baby brother see the tears forming in his eyes. Damn. He’s pathetic these days, isn’t he?

“Fine. I’ll do my job,” he says, daring to let it come out a little mockingly. “Even if it’s a complete waste of my talent because of some stupid backwards ass ideology.”

“It’s not backwards!”

The shout from his brother makes him leave without looking back. Fuck. Maybe he really  _ is _ falling into the bullshit.

The secretary lady tries to get him to sign something as he stomps out, but he ignores her and continues on. What are they going to do? Chase him down and threaten him with the camps? Fuck that. No matter how far West is gone, he’d never send him to one of those places as an inmate.

When he gets out of the office building, he stops and takes a deep breath to try to cool his anger, wiping the water from his eyes. Someone stares at him as the door opens and closes again, but he ignores it. Let them think what they want. Let them.

He’s Prussia. He’s too awesome for this shit. He’ll go check in on this captured nation and take it out on him. Not like he has much of a choice anymore.

~!~

Having been stripped of the uniform jacket and hat he’d used as spy wear, Canada quickly finds that he’s thankful that’s the only articles of clothing they took from him. It makes sense, too, but this closet isn’t really full of many options. So he’ll be satisfied with the white button down and khaki slacks. It would feel a little weird going outside with only this to wear, but he doubts he’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.

Unless he can work out a way to open the window and climb down and sneak away successfully. The room hasn’t exactly been escape-proofed yet so he still has a chance. Best to try to take it now, right? No telling what these Germans will do with him now that they know he’s a nation; his heart aches for the human members of his crew who he can’t feel anymore, but that means  _ someone _ recognized his nation “scent.”

Sadly. Here he was thinking he was invisible to everyone. Guess that’s not quite as true as he’d been led to believe.

“Mapleleaf,” he murmurs, “America’s never going to let me hear the end of this.”

He presses his hand to the window, feeling the chill of the night air. Maybe finding a jacket to wear would be a good idea if he tried to get out. Why isn’t this thing bolted shut? And why can’t he open it anyway? Shoddy craftsmanship?

Terrible luck, if that’s true. Maybe there’s something in here he can use to bust the window. Oh, but that would grab attention from the guards, wouldn’t it? Hm. He’d have to find something that would allow him to work fast, too. They seem to be pretty diligent about their rounds.

Considering what could await them if they fail their duty, he doesn’t blame them…

The door opens behind him and he spins immediately, putting his back to the window and doing his best to appear innocent. Of course he adds a glare for good measure, even before he sees who it is. The blue uniform is a bit of a surprise; he doesn’t think he’s seen that color on the Germans yet. But it’s most definitely one of their SS uniforms, and an officer by the looks of the insignia – he didn’t spend all that time studying the details not to recognize something so important.

There’s something else about him, too. He walks in calmly enough, but almost appears to be glaring with the same amount of vitriol as what Canada’s trying to dish out. Those red eyes feel like they’re swallowing him up in blood, but he meets the glare without flinching. He has to stand tall. He’s pretty sure he knows what’s in store for him, but he’s not going to let them get to him. He won’t give in. He’ll prove to everyone that he’s tough.

The other nation – because oh yeah, he can definitely feel the nation pull now that they’re in the same room – closes the door and stands there, as if blocking the way out. Like Canada would make a run for it. No point with all the guards and another nation on his scent.

Oh, there’s something else strange about this picture. Red eyes, white hair under that crooked hat, and his skin is deathly pale. Albino? An albino officer? That doesn’t match up with everything he’s gathered on their political propaganda; then again, he’s a nation, so he must not have to deal with all that.

Of course now Canada is left to search the information in his brain to figure out which nation is albino. He’s been warned about Germany and Prussia, and he’s pretty sure Germany is blue eyes and blond hair so...is this Prussia? Maybe. There could be other German states still around living as immortal nations. So he’s not going to jump to conclusions.

The voice that comes out of the other nation is grumbling and angry, but not as harsh as he’s expected. “Good job getting fucking caught.”

Canada blinks at first, then scoffs it away. “Shouldn’t have happened.”

“Well it did and now I’m stuck with watching over you,” the man crosses his arms slowly, his red eyes narrowing into a deeper glare. “So good fucking job.”

_ He almost sounds pissed about them catching me. That’s a little backwards, so I’m sure I’m reading that wrong. _

“So, what, are you just going to stay in here and babysit me?”

The albino scoffs and begins muttering under his breath. Canada raises his eyebrows, trying his best to catch what’s said, but the German accent suddenly gets real thick and he finds it difficult. He supposes he should be grateful the man decided to speak in English. Guess they know who he is, then.

Interesting that the guy isn’t doing anything yet. And he really  _ does _ sound pissed about his current position. Not that Canada likes having a nation trusted to guard him. It makes escape more difficult thanks to that whole can’t-hide-from-a-nation-within-a-certain-range thing. Too bad his invisibility isn’t working; instead of being ignored in meetings, he’d sure like for it to come in use here.

But knowing his current luck, that’s not going to happen.

So he groans. “I’ll take that muttering as a yes, which means I really will never hear the end of this.”

He half expects the other nation to snap at him again. Instead, all he gets is an answering groan, followed by those red eyes moving as the albino pulls away from the door. Canada feels himself tense as the man walks toward him, getting closer and closer, until he’s literally right in front of him. He can almost smell the hint of alcohol on the guy’s breath, or maybe that’s his imagination and stereotyping of Germans loving their beer.

Still, he can’t help but press back against the window as those red eyes study him. He tries to match it, but his heart pounds in his chest, the blood rushing to his ears. He can hear his own heartbeat he’s so nervous. So many warnings come to mind.

England, America, France, everyone warning him about the dangers of the German brothers. If it really is Prussia, even more so. And that gaze is meeting his now. Glare for glare. Close enough to touch. What is he doing? What’s the aim here?

Another gasp of breath later, and the other nation pulls back with a short laugh, standing straighter. “Relax. I’m no monster. No matter what the others probably say.”

Canada blinks because that’s too close to what he was actually thinking. Kind of creepy. He doesn’t say anything in response, though. Just listens as the albino glances to the side and mutters some more.

“West, on the other hand, I can’t speak for anymore.”

“I -” He gulps, forces himself to calm down and face this head on. “I find that hard to believe.”

Red eyes flash at him immediately. “Why?”

“I have intel. I know what you’re doing to your people,” he says, proud of himself for not stammering, even if he tenses again. “I don’t know who you are exactly, maybe Prussia, but you’re here so you must be part of the problem.”

A fist slams against the wall right beside him and he flinches, eyes shaking as he tries his best to meet that terrifying red-eyed glare. “I am  _ not _ responsible for any of that! And yes, I’m Prussia, but look at me. Take a good, long look. You have intel on the camps? Well, what do you think they want to do to someone who looks like me, huh?”

_ They wouldn’t dare _ , Canada thinks.  _ He’s just trying to freak me out. Pity him, maybe. Sympathize with him. Well, forget it. I’m not falling for it. I’m not giving you anything. _

“But you’re one of us,” he says out loud. “They couldn’t...could they?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Prussia says, echoing Canada’s thoughts, and then offering a smirk. “Just like they wouldn’t dare put you in one. Why do you think you’re here and I’m on guard duty?”

He shivers a little just at the thought, but he controls his fear enough to return his glares. Even though there’s something about that smirk…

“Why you specifically?”

“Got me,” Prussia responds lazily, his face switching to a grin as he finally pulls away and turns around. “Have they fed you?”

Canada shakes his head, even though the other nation is facing away from him and can’t see. “Why do you care?”

“Would you rather starve?”

With a grimace, he mutters under his breath. “Good point.” Then with a sigh, he gives in. “No, they didn’t feed me.”

Red eyes flash in a lighthearted smile as the man turns around, putting Canada off his guard again. “Then I’ll bring something up.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, not sure what to think of Prussia. All the warnings have him tense and wary. Prussia’s supposed to love torture. He’s supposed to be good at it. Enjoy it. Get off to it. So why is he offering food?

Canada chews his bottom lip in thought as the albino nation walks to the door and opens it before saying a few last things over his shoulder. “Oh and don’t think about sneaking out the window. It’s a bit of a drop. I’ll have bars placed on it soon anyway.”

Ah, right. That’s more like it.

Once the door is closed and Prussia is gone, Canada sits down on the nearby bed. Someone’s bedroom. He’s trapped in someone’s bedroom, caught in the middle of Berlin in the midst of a world war, and this monster of a nation is in charge of watching over him. He has to be tough. He can get through this.

He shudders. There is no alternative. He’ll get through this, and probably join the others in hating this Prussia character. He’s the one to blame for what Germany is doing anyway. It should be easy to hate him.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Don't think the German citizens knew the extent of, or much about, the camps by the way. Just that they would take people away and they'd never come back. The military had varying degrees of knowledge depending on what section you were in, but it wasn't exactly paraded around. Mmmf. Yeah. Ahem.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Some time later, Canada sits on the bed and continues to stare out the nearby window. There’s no bars on it yet, and the “long way down” wouldn’t be too much of a bother assuming he doesn’t fall. It’s the guards making their rounds that he’s worried about, since they literally walk around the house. 

He’s not willing to give up on escape yet, but his stomach growl does remind him that food would be a nice thing. Maybe he can wait until he’s fed, assuming he can trust in Prussia to give him something edible. If he keeps his strength up, then he can have an easier time getting out of this predicament, right?

Right…

He sighs and stays in his position on the edge of the bed, looking around the room. It’s not too bad of a bedroom. A little sparse. A bed. A dresser. A nightstand. A richly decorated carpet designed with different shades of blues and greens. The Prussian flag framed on one wall makes him wonder if this is actually Prussia’s room. Why would they put him here, then? If Prussia is going to stay here and guard him, then where is the albino nation sleeping? 

Whatever.

There’s not much on the one long dresser, except the large mirror and some items of value at the top of the dresser. Otherwise it’s clean. Dusted and everything. So apparently Prussia likes to keep his place super clean. One thing Canada wishes he could manage to do at his own house; he’s never been that much of a neatfreak.

The door opening snaps his thoughts away from his home, and he turns a glare to the albino nation. Who comes in still wearing his full uniform but now he’s carrying two plates. Oh, it smells good too. Why does it have to smell good? It’s far too tempting. Is it some sort of trap? Some ploy? 

“Here,” Prussia says as he steps over and hands one of the plates out. “You’re lucky. I can’t believe I had some sausages and potatoes stashed away. Thank past me.”

Taking the plate, Canada looks up at him. “And I guess I’m supposed to just trust you and eat this?”

“Up to you.” 

The nonchalant way that Prussia shrugs and finds a wall to lean against makes Canada rethink his suspicion. The albino digs into his own food without a second thought, and honestly, it doesn’t look all that different from what he’s handed Canada. So, maybe it’s safe? 

He rolls his eyes. Now he’s just being paranoid. But this nice attitude is throwing him off. All those warnings, and  _ this _ is what Prussia is like? There  _ has _ to be some catch. Something. Somewhere. Somehow.

His stomach growls and he knows he might as well quit holding off. So he takes a bite of the sausage and hums. It’s fresh. Well, as fresh as he’s had since he began his military mission out here. What Prussia said about being lucky is clearly no understatement.

Still, it’s not how he’d prefer to have his sausages. “Not sweet enough.”

He hears the fork fall against a plate and looks up to meet the red-eyed glare, though Prussia hasn’t moved from his roost against the wall. “Maybe I won’t bring you food then. I’ll just take that back and let you starve.”

With a flinch, Canada switches his attention back to the food in front of him. He’s not going to apologize, but maybe he should keep his mouth shut and accept the goodness he’s being offered. The food  _ is _ pretty good. Not his ideal, but it’s not bad or anything.

And there are people starving. In this country no less. Prussia has citizens starving in his country and he’s handing out rare meat like this to a prisoner.

Why?

“What were you doing when they caught you anyway?”

Oh. Here it comes.

Without looking up, Canada responds as calmly as he can. “I fail to see why I should tell you that.”

“Tch,” Prussia scoffs. “Giving me some information now would probably be better for you in the long run.”

He shivers at the insinuation, but stands his ground. “Doesn’t mean I’ll give in at all.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Prussia says as he takes another bite of food like this is all some normal everyday conversation for him. “I still have to try. Or else West might get on my case about it.”

“Who’s West?”

“That should be obvious, unless you’re in this war without any clue of who we are. Oh.” Fingers snap and Canada looks up to meet Prussia’s grin. “You’re one of Arthur’s little conquests, aren’t you? Then maybe you don’t know much of anything after all.”

“Watch it. I know plenty without England’s help.”

The bark of laughter is entirely unexpected, so Canada widens his eyes as Prussia sets his plate down and practically rolls in amusement. Pale hands slap at his thighs and he even has to take a moment to breathe and wipe his eyes clear. 

In that moment, though, Prussia takes off his hat and Canada gets his first real look at the silvery white hair underneath. It’s wild and dances in every direction. Even though it’s been under a military hat for so long, it still pokes up and insists on going everywhere. Like its hiding a wild and free spirit. 

He shakes his head. Now he’s acting weird. This man is his enemy. An enemy nation. He’s  _ trying _ to get friendly with him. That’s the whole point of this act. 

_ Don’t fall for his act, Canada _ , he berates himself, takes a breath to collect his thoughts, and then faces Prussia for when the nation finally stops his laughing fit.

“Yeah, that’s rich,” Prussia states between his remaining chuckles. “Did you really just threaten me?”

Narrowing his eyes, Canada stuffs a forkful of food into his mouth and grumbles. “I bet I could beat you in a fair fight.”

Another laughing fit breaks free, but this time Prussia leaves his plate at the dresser and returns to his place by the wall. “I seriously doubt that. I came into this world fighting, you know. No common former colony could possibly be a match for my awesomeness.”

Canada practically throws the fork on his plate as he glares over at the albino nation. “You want to test that?”

A grin is his only response. A sick, twisted grin that makes his skin crawl and his blood rush at the same time. The gleam in those red eyes actually makes him shiver. Prussia probably isn’t kidding about enjoying his fights. The other nations call him a monster for a reason.

What if this is a taste of that monster? This look sizing him up like a predator studying his prey. It’s nerve wracking. Canada stands his ground, but it’s harder than he ever expected it to be. He’s not backing down. He won’t be pushed around. 

Eventually, the sardonic grin dies and is replaced by a sigh. “There’s no chance of a fair fight here. We’ll have to meet on a battlefield sometime. That would be more fun anyway.”

“You won’t find me out there,” Canada huffs. “I don’t do battlefields.”

“Why the hell not?”

The snap is harsh but Canada simply shrugs his shoulders. “I do better with more covert stuff. Things like slipping away when it’s necessary.”

“So you’re always spying on people?” Prussia asks. “Instead of actually getting into the fun stuff?”

“You’re crazy. War isn’t fun. None of it is. Ever.”

“Bah, you’re the crazy one. The rush of a good battle is amazing.” 

_ No, what’s amazing is your lust for it, apparently. And not amazing in a good way. _

Prussia clicks his tongue between his teeth and continues his train of thought. “Though it’s not as fun now as it used to be so of course you wouldn’t understand.”

Canada rolls his eyes. “Oh, you’re getting sentimental on me now?”

Before he knows it, Prussia is in front of him. Red eyes seething as they glare. Such a creepy look in such a deathly pale face, but there’s also something that makes his breath hitch. Probably just because he’s too close.

Personal space is a thing and this albino nation apparently likes the idea of trying to frazzle him by breaking those little personal bubbles. He’s also considerably pissed right now. For some reason. He can feel the anger as if it’s an aura all on its own. And when Prussia snatches the empty plate from his hand, the edges scratch his palms, making him wince.

When the other nation speaks at last, his voice is low and soft, but hard, harsh, cutting with each word. “I wouldn’t piss me off if I were you.”

He flinches back despite himself. “What are you planning on doing?”

Here it comes. The torture that everyone warned him of. This is it. This is the monster they spoke of. The one he’s supposed to be wary of. Oh, it’s hard to stand his ground now that he’s so sure he’s about to face something terrible.

Nothing happens, though. To his utmost surprise, Prussia pulls back and smirks instead. A dark smirk, eyes flashing as if they’ve done their duty already. 

“Nothing,” Prussia purrs. “Yet.”

When the nation pulls away and makes for the door, Canada licks his lips and takes a breath to call on his earlier confidence. “I’m not going to talk so do your worst.”

Red eyes glance back to pierce him, but he turns away just as fast. “I don’t really care about all that, just warning you not to piss me off. I’m annoyed enough at having to be here.”

The man mutters as he takes both empty plates and leaves the room, shutting the door and locking it from the outside. Canada sighs in relief once he’s gone, running a hand through his hair and mouthing a curse. This is a lot harder than he thought. Nothing’s happened, though. Not yet at least.

It’s the “yet” that has him worried the most.

~!~

Some days later, Prussia is bored as fuck. He’s starting to feel cooped up in his own home. Sure, they don’t fuss too much when he leaves to check the shops and chat with his citizens, but whenever he’s back they do give him a strong reprimand about watching his prisoner. It’s supposed to be his job to get information out of the Canadian nation, and any method is encouraged. 

But can he do it? 

He just hasn’t felt like it lately, that’s all. There’s no reason he’s holding back or putting it off. He’s bored as hell, but he’s not feeling the mood to torture right now. Probably better to keep with the good guy act. Because it’s definitely an act. Definitely. 

...nice having someone else to talk to, though.

With a sigh, he opens his own front door to meet the guards there. They glare at him. Well, that’s new. What’s got them pissed off? 

“Oh, it’s you,” one of them says and then faces forward again.

The other meets his glare and doesn’t drop it, so Prussia eventually gives up and scowls. “I do believe I’m of higher rank than you two, so some respect is expected, you know. I’m not like the others. I won’t send you off for upsetting me, but -”

“Our orders aren’t from you,” says the one facing him. “You’re here to gather information from our prisoner. We’re here to guard the perimeters. That’s all.”

Prussia rolls his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. What’s got you two in such dour moods?”

The first guard jerks his rifle off in one direction, and before looking in said direction, Prussia takes the moment to read the man’s name tag. Hahn. And the other is Keller. Never know when recognizing their names will come in handy. Besides, these are his citizens even if they don’t care too much for  _ him _ right now thanks to propaganda.

Looking out into the city streets, he sees someone passing out beer bottles. Holy shit. Is there a ration card for those? He needs to grab some. He didn’t even realize there was someone out here that could pass them out. 

Spinning to face Keller, eyes wide in excitement despite the earlier disrespect, he slides the hat around on his head and grins. “Want me to go get us some beer then?”

Keller’s blue eyes grow wide, then he nods. Several times. Ah hah. The quickest way to get on the good side of a German is to offer to get them beer. So he turns to the other one, Hahn, who also has eerie blue eyes, and ends up taking a handful of ration stamps.

“As much as you can carry, sir. We’ve been stocking up for the best lager.”

Prussia smirks and nods. “Got it. It’s about time things stopped being so damn boring around here.”

With that, he escapes his own house and rushes to where the crowd of Germans are passing out beer among each other. It’s a glorious sight to see so many happy faces in a town usually so fearful and dreary. He’s overheard many say they aren’t really fans of the nazi stuff, but no one can say that too loud these days without risking retribution. Still, these are his people, and it’s so nice to enjoy something with them.

Even if it’s as simple as beer. He doesn’t even care what kind it is. The seller promises it to be Berlin draft, but Prussia won’t know for sure until he tastes it himself. 

Eventually, he pulls out of the crowd, hands out beer to the guards, even the ones that stalk around the house at all times. Then he’s back inside and holding two bottles. Oh, it’s going to be an awesome day. He can’t wait to get started and get as shit faced as he possibly can because this feeling of being under house arrest is such bullshit.

He makes it to the den before he stops and looks back to where the stairs are, to where his bedroom is, to where a certain someone else is sitting there wasting the days away probably bored out of his mind, too. A thought occurs to him and he smiles and turns his feet to walk toward the prisoner. Well, he  _ does _ have two bottles. And it’s always better to drink with someone else instead of drowning in the alcohol alone. 

Besides, Canada’s kind of fun to talk to.

So he walks up the stairs and opens the door to his bedroom, only to find the captured nation on his knees, digging in his closet. Why his closet? Is the guy still looking for some magic way out of here? Hah. Probably just bored.

He stands behind Canada, letting the bottles click against each other as he walks, and says, “You know, I don’t think there’s monsters hiding in my closet anymore so you should be safe.”

The yelp he gets in response is too cute, and he only grins wider as the nation turns around and raises an eyebrow. “What is that?”

“Oh these?” He says, holding up the beer bottles. “The guards outside had some extra rations so I figured, why not? Why don’t you just go ahead and stop whatever it is you were doing down there.”

“I still don’t know if I should trust you.”

Prussia grins and holds one bottle out to him. “You shouldn’t. But it’s up to you.”

He’s just being honest. Hell, if he were in Canada’s position, he sure as hell wouldn’t trust himself. That’s just what it’s like being a prisoner. Funny that in this case Prussia’s actually trying to be genuine. He’s bored.

What else is he going to do?

After another heartbeat of a moment goes by, Canada sighs, stands up and takes the beer. Prussia watches as the other nation moves over to the nightstand and uses the edge of the furniture there to pop the bottle cap off. It’s kind of hot.

_ No, wait, bad thought,  _ he reminds himself.

With a shake of the head, he adjusts his hat so that it’s covering one eye, which is much more comfortable, honestly. Then he takes a glance in the closet before turning around, closing the closet doors, and leaning back against them. For his own bottle-opening trick, he leans down to pop it against the silver edge of his boot. He’s done this trick before, but it doesn’t always work out like it’s supposed to and West laughs at him for it. But this time, everything goes according to plan so he looks nice and cool in front of the younger nation.

Too bad Canada doesn’t seem all that impressed as he takes a swig of his own beer and then proceeds to cough. Prussia holds back his laugh. He’s getting enough glares. It would be kind of nice to see the man smile. 

_ No, stop that. He’s your prisoner. Prisoner. Who is supposed to be tortured by you for information. Stop forgetting that. _

“You’ve been surprisingly quiet up here,” he says instead.

“Don’t really have much of a choice, do I? Act out and who knows where I’ll be sent, right?” Canada glances at him, and Prussia tenses against his will. “I feel like you’re in the same situation.”

Oh, damn. He’s not, but he’s damn close and it pisses him off that Canada’s able to read that much of what’s going on here. So he grits his teeth and glares before drowning himself in a couple gulps of beer. The alcohol soothes his temper because the guy outside wasn’t lying after all. It really  _ is _ from Berlin. Ah, the heart of his country. It feels wonderful.

While he enjoys the beer, Canada seems to be having trouble, as he coughs again and manages to choke out. “Oh man, that’s actually pretty strong.”

It sends pride flowing through Prussia to hear those words, even if it’s not beer he’s specifically made himself. “Never had real beer before, have you?”

“Apparently not. My brother always used to say that -”

The man cuts off and Prussia tilts his head, feeling the curiosity burn through him as hot as the alcohol. “Your brother said what now?”

There’s a quiet mumble, and he manages to lean forward and catch the words. Reading lips is helpful, too. And he’s thankful to Arthur for making sure his English didn’t suck, and to Francis for teaching him enough French to get by. It doesn’t matter what this little conquest-of-the-British-Empire mutters under his breath.

Prussia will figure it out.

“You’re a lightweight?” He snorts then slaps his thighs as a real laugh falls out. “Seriously? So is one beer going to be enough to get you drunk?”

If it’s true, then he has to see it. He loves seeing what people act like when they’re drunk. Lots of people who aren’t normally fun turn into party animals and it’s glorious. Lizzy can get a little rough and abusive in certain phases of her drunkenness, but she’s fun all the rest of the time. West slurs his words and stumbles around and starts ranting about how no one else around him knows how to keep things organized. 

Toni and Francis like to slowly lose clothes throughout a long night of drinking and dancing, just like him. That’s why they work so well together when they’re out for a good time.

He frowns at the thought. Well, that’s been a while, with all this war stuff going on. With how they totally destroyed France. He winces at the memory, of seeing his friend beaten and crying for his people, of not caring at the time because he was on top of the world. Oh, he was drunk then, drunk on the rush of power, drunk on the words of the latest German leader.

If only he could go back in time and warn Ludwig earlier. If only he could stop the monster from taking over. Stop all this before it went too far. 

“It’s not like that!” Canada snaps, breaking Prussia from his inner torture of regret enough to get a smile out of him. “At least I don’t think so…”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Prussia says, grinning from ear to ear as he waves the beer bottle toward the captured nation. “Maybe you’ll spill all your secrets for me.That’ll make my life easier by far.”

“No way. I wouldn’t give in all because of getting a little drunk.”

“We’ll see,” Prussia says with a lazy smirk. “What kind of drunk are you anyway?”

The blush looks way too cute on that pouty face. “I’d rather not say.”

“Well keep drinking and I might get the chance to see it firsthand.”

Canada huffs in response, and for a moment Prussia worries that the other nation is going to put the alcohol to the side. To his delight, the man keeps drinking. He’s no longer coughing, either, which means he’s probably getting a little buzzed as he gets used to the flavor and the amount of alcohol he’s chugging at once there.

Prussia takes his own little moment to enjoy the taste of the beer flowing down into the center of his being. It’s so nice how it warms everything up, especially since it’s starting to get cold outside. He can’t believe he got a hold of this today. It’s almost a miracle. With all the strict rules on drinking lately, he just can’t believe he could be so lucky.

And the guards were willing to have some, too. That should help his standing with them, right? They’ll stop glaring at him for being albino and sharing their uniform. Let them see he’s just like the rest of them. Well, in the fact that they can all enjoy a dose of alcohol in this rough time at least. They probably aren’t one of the few around that know he’s a nation.

Smiling to himself, Prussia steps over to stand in front of Canada, making sure to get far too close for comfort. “So. What were you doing in Berlin? How did you even get over here?”

“I was looking for information. That’s all I can say.”

“Hmph,” he grunts, then sighs, straightening up. “You’re tougher to crack than I thought you’d be.”

“You haven’t even done anything.”

Prussia opens his mouth to disagree, but after a moment he has to close it as no words - and no facts - come to his defense for him. Canada’s right. He hasn’t done anything. He doesn’t actually want to, either, which is the weird part. He should. They’ve probably told Canada that he enjoys battle and gets drunk on his own bloodlust. 

Sure, that much is true on a  _ battlefield _ , but doing something like torturing prisoners is different. He  _ can _ do it if he needs to - he’s been doing it for his country since his days as the Teutonic Knights. Which is a rough memory for a child, but it’s true. 

So why does he struggle when it comes to Canada?

“Why is that?” Canada asks, as if echoing his own thoughts. “Is giving me beer your idea of getting me to speak up?”

“No, I just -”

He clenches his jaw and stomps over to the dresser so he can set his beer bottle down. After downing the last of its contents, of course. He doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t want to even bother with this. Why the  _ fuck _ is he here instead of out fighting? 

Damn it all, this is not what he should be doing. 

“You don’t want to do it, do you?”

Canada’s assumption gets him to glare over at the other nation. His anger is rising because of this topic. He doesn’t want to debate or discuss this anymore. When he doesn’t understand something himself, he’d rather avoid the whole thing entirely.

“That’s not it,” he growls. “I’m just playing with you to get you all comfortable before I do my worst.”

Canada merely shrugs at him. “You don’t seem like the type.”

Brave little shit. He wants to punch that light hearted attitude out of him. So much for getting him drunk and loosening him up for information. So much for having a fun conversation because he’s bored as hell. This is pissing him off.

Still, he forces a grin. “Then it’s working and you’re falling for it.”

“Hmm. No I’m pretty sure I’m a good judge of character.”

“Everyone likes to think they’re a real good judge of character, when really they’re all shit at it.”

“You can choose to believe that.”

“It’s not just what I believe!” he yells, crossing his arms to remind himself to hang back; he doesn’t want to snap in front of another nation; he really, really doesn’t; not unless he’s on the battlefield; that’s where it’s okay; snapping here? Now? Over this? “It’s the truth. You’d have learned that well enough if you weren’t sheltered by Arthur.”

“I wasn’t that sheltered,” Canada says, giving another shrug, and taking a last gulp of beer before staring at the empty bottle with sad eyes; it might have been cute if Prussia wasn’t so pissed. “America’s the one who can’t read anybody but thinks he can.”

“Hmph, I remember coming across that upstart brat during his war with Arthur.” Now this is a conversation he can handle, so he relaxes a little. “Never did come across you though.”

“Guess we just weren’t meant to meet before now,” Canada grumbles. “Always did get overshadowed by him.”

“Hm,” Prussia hums, running his tongue across his teeth as he thinks. This is another opportunity. Maybe it’ll work this time. “I guess that’s why you’d come out here as a spy and not him. Something that you’re better at than him.”

“Sad but true.”

When nothing else comes from the other nation, Prussia starts tapping his arm in annoyance. No. Calm down. Think through it. He’s talking more now, so there has to be a way to get him to spill something.

Anything would be better than constantly being dodged like he has been so far. It’s getting frustrating. Beyond frustrating. He doesn’t even really want to gather information from this guy, but if he would just make it easy then there doesn’t need to be any reason to push. No reason for torture if the little simple things would work.

Can’t he see that?

“I’m actually impressed you got inside our capital before West noticed your presence.”

“That’s what I do,” Canada sighs, slouching on the edge of the bed. “I slip under people’s radars.”

“Mmf,” Prussia bites the inside of his cheek, tapping his foot as he waits for more, annoyed when nothing else comes. “Or maybe West was just distracted by other things.”

“Maybe, but I’m not telling you.”

A slew of curses escape from Prussia’s mouth and he barely manages to hold himself back from punching the dresser or nearest wall. “Damn it. Why do you have to be so difficult?”

Canada doesn’t respond to this, instead staring up at the ceiling and muttering something to himself. The beer is all gone at this point and instead of feeling relaxed, Prussia is just more annoyed than when he started drinking. Which is not the point of sharing a beer or two. He wants to have a normal conversation. Maybe relax and enjoy the company, forced as it is, because what the hell else is he going to do here?

He feels like he’s sulking as he keeps his arms crossed and leans back against the dresser. Hopefully he’s not pouting and his demon red eyes are a little intimidating when he’s angry. He knows many humans who have soiled themselves just at a look from him. Why is Canada so resilient? Some nobody nation underneath Arthur’s thumb, and he just shrugs off every look like it’s nothing.

Maybe he’s lost his touch. He scoffs at this. Yeah, right. There’s no way.

“Can’t believe I got caught,” Canada mumbles into the silence.

So Prussia looks back at him and his eyes are pulled to something else. He softens a little because another pulse in his body beats at an irregular rhythm. His breath catches. Oh, he’s weak over the cute, vulnerable position of the other nation and that’s a bad, bad thing. 

He may not know for sure what the others say about him, but after what’s he’s done in the past…

Licking his lips he forces the monster to sit down. Not. Today. “What did you think would happen? A nation’s capital is like his heart. It’s damn near impossible to ignore if another nation shows up there.”

“Yeah, you have a point. Guess we just got careless.”

“We?”

Canada sits up on his elbows, face contorted in confusion. “You didn’t know there was a group of us? I hope they’re okay…”

Despite himself, Prussia grimaces, because he has a pretty good idea of what happened. “A group of human spies? Caught in our capital? Not likely.”

“I know what happened,” Canada whispers, shutting his eyes and flopping back on the bed, legs hanging off the edge. “I can’t feel them anymore.”

Not knowing what else to do, Prussia rubs the back of his neck and turns away. He feels like he’s hovering over someone in the middle of mourning. Which is weird. This is war. He’s killed far more enemies already. Even if he’s been hanging out on the eastern front, there’s no guarantee he hasn’t killed one of Canada’s mortal friends already.

A little sobering to think of it like that. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs into the silence.

How many friends has he killed? How many parents? How many children? For some reason, instead of thinking of the battlefield, his mind returns to when he’d been told to inspect the camps. His stomach reels at the memory and he shakes it to the side.

How many of their own citizens have been butchered for this war? He doesn’t want to think of it. There’s nothing he can do, so he has to push it to the side and hope the world never finds out what they’ve been doing here. Hope they don’t see the truth for themselves. Speculation is one thing. Actually seeing it…

He shakes his head, and then gets the odd feeling on the back of his neck. His spine tingles and he spins around, catching the other nation sitting up again and staring at him. With eyes that aren’t glaring or sad. Just staring. Heh. That’s different.

“What? Want more beer or something?” Prussia asks, though he’s pretty sure that’s not it. “‘Cause tough. It’s rare these days and I’m not snatching anymore from the guards outside. They need it more.”

“No, it’s not that,” Canada says, then frowns. “Wait. If it’s so rare, why give me one?”

At this, Prussia clicks his tongue between his teeth. “Doesn’t matter. Maybe I should’ve let you drink both. Might have made it worth it.”

“So you were just trying to get information out of me after all, huh?”

With a lazy grin, Prussia spreads his hands. “Told you not to trust me, didn’t I?”

What he expects is disappointment from Canada. A frown. A sad look. Anything except the smile that lights up those blue-violet eyes. Purple eyes that are a different shade from Ivan’s. A better shade, if he’s honest. 

They look kind of nice when he smiles.

“I still can’t bring myself to believe that.”

Prussia shrugs, crossing his arms again. “Believe what you want. Just makes it easier to take advantage of you if you think I’m not a bad guy.”

Again, he expects the man to pout or frown and stare at the ground. Break his spirit, maybe? Except, no, Canada laughs. Actually, full out laughs. As much as it’s nice to hear laughter around here, Prussia never has liked it when someone is finding amusement in  _ him _ . Not when he’s trying to be serious, at least.

So he growls. “I’m warning you. Don’t take me lightly.”

Canada only waves off the warning. “If you really wanted information out of me, you would have done something by now.” 

Oh, that does it. 

Prussia moves swiftly from his spot by the dresser to standing in front of Canada like he has multiple times now. Only this time he actually touches. He grabs the man’s shirt collar and pulls him up to be closer to eye to eye. 

To his delight, the man’s laughter stops and his breath hitches. Good. Fucking learn a lesson, then. 

“Don’t. Take. Me. Lightly.”

Canada nods, breathless, eyes wide. Is that a tremble in the other nation’s fingers? Good. Let him be scared. He doesn’t need a drinking buddy out here anyway. He should be making friends with the guards, not bringing a rare drink to a prisoner. And even if out of the goodness of his heart, he does to decide to share, it doesn’t mean he’s not going to snap.

In fact, it might be easier if he does snap. Let the monster take control. Let the overpowering feelings do the hard stuff. He’s done it before when conquests had to happen. When battles required it. 

Why not? It would be so easy to let go. So. Fucking. Easy.

The anger rushes through him and he almost gives in right there. But a spark in those blue-violet eyes calls him back, and he tosses the nation down to the bed. Canada scrambles back and puts distance between them. Once again, good. 

“I  _ will _ get information out of you,” he growls. “If I have to snap to do it, I will, so underestimate me at your own peril.”

“Right,” Canada murmurs, voice shaking just slightly. “S-sorry.”

“Good.”

With that, he turns on his heel and stalks out of the room. Oh, he picks up the empty beer bottles. Can’t help but make sure things stay clean, after all. Can’t leave anything that doesn’t belong. 

He slams the door. Then once he’s on the other side and he’s made sure it’s locked behind him, he leans against it and heaves out a lengthy breath. That was close. Too close. 

He takes off his hat and tosses it down the stairs, glaring at it as it hits the floor. He’ll pick it up later. Right now, he needs a moment to calm down. He’s seen West with his monster unleashed. He’s sure West has seen him. They were pretty bad at the beginning of the war, after all.

But no more. He may have just threatened Canada, but he won’t. He can’t. His hands are shaking just thinking of it. His stomach feels queasy. He keeps thinking of the citizens they’ve condemned. How can he dish out pain to anyone else after seeing all that? Unless they’re on a battlefield, of course, but here? With Canada?

Those eyes…

Grimacing, Prussia reaches up and squeezes his hand into his silvery-white hair. “Shit.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

3

Weeks later, he's back in West's office and West isn't happy this time. It's a subtle thing but Prussia notes the way his baby brother shuffles papers on his desk and ignores him even after he's been called in. 

There's no chair to sit in so Prussia has to stand and wait. He probably should just march right up and slam his hands on the desk, demanding to be sent back to the front lines. But he can't manage to push himself to do it. Probably because he's actually wary about what the monster inside his brother can do right now.

God, he shouldn't be nervous in front of his brother. That's insane! West is the last person for him to be afraid of…

Except now. With that red flag hanging on his office wall, Prussia isn't comfortable pushing him anymore. The war isn't going in their favor anymore. Everyone is on edge, fighting with the last they have and then some. Prussia has been in this position before and he's done all he could to help on a battlefield where his talents can really shine.

But this time… 

He shies away from staring at all the propaganda in his baby brother's office. There's even a photograph of their illustrious leader on the wall. And another on his desk. The leader that Prussia doesn't like near as much as he did at first. He's almost sick to his stomach staring at him now, after everything that's been done to their citizens, their innocent civilians. 

"Gilbert," West says and Prussia snaps his attention to him immediately. "What information do you have from our captive?"

He tenses. For more than one reason. West always calls him brother. No matter the language they converse in, he uses the German word for brother when talking to him. It's become a special word between them, a certain kind of nickname in a way.

That he's dropped it in place of his human name has Prussia catching his breath. He tries to talk but his words are stuck in his throat. He doesn't have any information to hand over, either. Nothing useful. Nothing at all.

"It's been how many weeks?" West asks, still sitting at his desk, not even looking up at him.

Prussia feels a tingle run up his spine and he shifts positions, fiddling with his hat for a moment until it's off center in a more comfortable position. "I, uh, it's been three weeks, I think."

"Almost a month."

"Mhm." He licks his lips and barks a laugh to try to lighten the tension in the atmosphere. "Little Canadian brat sure is good at resisting my methods."

West looks up and Prussia snaps to attention before he can help himself. The ice cold glare is like nothing he's seen before, nothing from his baby brother at least. All West is doing is sitting there at his desk and glaring at him now but it's enough to cause Prussia's heart rate to pick up.

Shit. He's in trouble. But it's his brother, right? West may be angry but he won't actually do anything. So why is he so damn nervous?

"What methods?" West asks.

Prussia stumbles a little. "What?"

Hard blue eyes catch his own red. "You said he's been successfully resisting your methods. What methods?"

"Oh. That." Prussia clears his throat and forces his body to relax. "You know, uh, just the usual."

A chair scrapes against the floor and Prussia flinches back as West stands up. It's so slow. So different from Prussia's own monster. So different in so many ways. 

He gulps as West calmly walks around the desk. The only sign that he's pissed beyond reason is the way he crumples the paper in his hand and tosses it to his desk instead of throwing it in the trash can right away. Oh but Prussia can feel the disappointment and he sees those ice cold blue eyes flash once West is standing in front of him, mere inches away.

His brother reaches out and removes Prussia's hat, brushing some dust from the silver eagle insignia. Prussia stands there, frozen to his spot, willing his mouth to smirk and not twitch, willing his breathing to stay even and controlled. West places the hat back on his head in the most correct position it's ever been in since he got the damn thing. 

"Stop breaking uniform protocol," West murmurs. "You've always talked about how your pride is related to your military, so act like it when you're part of mine, too."

Prussia grits his teeth, eyes flashing. "I thought it was ours now."

West grunts, eyes narrowing, and completely ignores the correction. "You've also told me you've been torturing your enemies since you were young. I know the methods have changed since those early times, but here I thought you would be reliable for this mission."

"I'm still better at fighting, West."

"Yes, I know, but this is a special case and I need you," West shoves his finger into Prussia's chest, but their gazes stay locked. "If only you'd get that information for me, I'll be able to send you back out to where you're more in your element."

"I told you, I-"

"You're lying!"

The snap causes a shiver to run up Prussia's spine. Another one. Shit. His tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth, it's so dry all of a sudden. 

Since he flinches and lowers his eyes, West puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. Oh, shit. That grip is rough, fingers clawing through his uniform and insignia. He bites his lip to keep from crying out - more from shock than pain, really. 

"Don't let me down, Gilbert." West whispers. "You know I'd hate to have to punish someone who raised me. Don't make me have to do anything I'll regret later. Just do your job. Whatever means necessary."

It hurts hearing his actual name from his brother's lips. It's always been 'bruder'. Always, for as long as they've established their brother relationship. 

But it hurts even more to be threatened.

"R-right," he chokes out eventually. "I know."

And that's the end of it. West dismisses him with a curt nod, making him promise to deliver on the information they need, while also mentioning the timespan he has to get it to him. West is going to fight. West is going to fight and he's stuck here. But when West comes back, that's when Prussia will have to produce some information. Or else.

_ Or else huh?  _

Prussia leaves the office, holding his hand to his chest to calm his poor heart. He signs some paper for the secretary - a new one - and then puts as much distance between him and his brother as he can.

It's when he's outside that he pauses and takes a deep breath. The cold air hurts in his lungs, but that's a more physical pain that helps him release the mental suffering. Winter is just around the corner. The fighting is going to get worse. They really do need every advantage they can get, but…

But he  _ likes _ the Canada kid. He doesn't want to hurt him. And he doesn't want to snap in front of him. Since he finds him attractive, even on such a purely physical level, there's no telling what his own monster will do to the innocent flower.

_ Shit what am I going to do then? _

"Oh, hi there, Prussia!"

He flicks his gaze over to the owner of the new voice and immediately gives a relaxing smile. Italy. If there's anyone that can make the darkness around them feel a little brighter, it's this cute little idiot. 

"How are you doing, Feli?"

Italy shines as he climbs the steps, holding out a box. "Great now that I have this. I was on my way to give some to Germany. Do you want a few for yourself?"

Prussia blinks and turns his gaze to the box of chocolates in Italy's hands, then he grins and reaches up to ruffle the cute Italian's hair. "You're awesome, you know that? I bet this is just what that little brother of mine needs right now."

Italy laughs for a moment, his dark eyes lighting up. He likes having close contact with all his friends, so of course he enjoys it when Prussia touches him. 

He sees Italy as a sort of brother in a way, too. Not the same as with West, but, well, they've been through the same sort of heartbreak. The Holy Roman Empire - or Holy Rome as Italy always called him - meant a lot to them both. Ever since they found out they could share such a bond over the tragic loss, Prussia's always kind of liked it when Italy shows up around here. 

The more southern nation is bundled up in preparation for winter. Prussia assumes he has a uniform underneath all that, but there's no way to know for sure with Italy. West will berate them all about uniform protocol, but Italy seems to be the only one that gets away with it with such ease.

"Is he -" Italy starts, then bites his lip and tries again. "Is he in a bad mood?"

Prussia nods, "Yeah, sorry, you can blame me for that one."

Italy shakes his head. "It's okay. He's been worse lately. I know the Germany I like is still in there somewhere, but…"

Prussia sighs. "I know what you mean."

As the silence stalks between them for a moment, Prussia decides to dig in the cardboard box full of chocolate bars. His mouth is watering just at seeing so many. Canada will be sure to love this. Oh, and the guards. He should get a couple for them, too.

No ration card necessary. This is like a prayer come true. A small prayer but at least something is being heard up there.

~!~

There’s no point in trying to escape anymore. He’s tried everything he can think of, but even with nice accommodations, he can’t find a hole in their trap. So Canada has given in a few times and asked for something.

Like a desk, a journal, and a chair. He’s not writing anything important. He knows Prussia is going to read it all eventually and sift through for whatever information he can gather. But pretend letters to his brother or England or France… they kind of help with the whole prisoner-of-war situation.

It’s been too long. He’s going to have to rely on someone breaking him out of here. Maybe the war will end without him. Maybe they’ll come rushing through Berlin and take over the capital. He can dream, can’t he?

Canada sighs as he curls up on the chair and rests his head against the desk. There’s nothing else to do but wait on a rescue at this point. He’s gotten lucky in the fact that Prussia hasn’t actually tried to torture him. His good judge of character says the albino nation won’t ever get around to it, but things change, especially in war, especially with someone so quick to flip into rage. 

Despite his faith in Prussia, the infamous “yet” has him on edge all the same.

A noise from downstairs gets his attention and Canada tries to listen in to whatever is going on. He can’t make much out, though. Even if he were to go over and stand by the door, he doesn’t think he’d be able to hear the words. They’re probably speaking in German anyway. His German is limited so if it’s muffled and hard to hear, he doubts he’ll be able to figure it out. Then again, he could swear he hears cheers.

His heart beats into his throat. Have the Germans won something big in the war? They haven’t actually won, have they? There’s no way. America wouldn’t give up. England’s been beat up too much to quit now, there’s no way. 

When the door opens, he’s not surprised, and he turns to Prussia expecting to hear the worst news. Instead, the nation tosses him something and Canada almost drops it in his attempt to catch it. Scratch that, he does drop it, eyes widening when he notices what he’s now picking up off the floor.

Prussia speaks before he can open his mouth to question. “Got some chocolate from a friend of mine. Figured I’d share with you, too.”

Holding the chocolate bar in his hands, Canada gapes over at the albino nation. “What?”

“I said,” Prussia says as he flops onto the bed, tossing his hat to the lampstand and resting his feet on the stand as he gets comfortable. “We have extra chocolate. Or do you not like chocolate?”

“Okay stupid question,” Canada murmurs. “Should’ve asked why.”

“Hm?” Prussia hums, already taking a bite of his own chocolate bar, one arm moving to rest comfortably behind his head. “Why not? I got extra. I can share with who I want.”

Staring at how comfortable the nation is, lying on the bed in here like there’s absolutely nothing to fear from a prisoner, Canada shakes his head and focuses on the chocolate. Well, he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Prussia wants to hand out extra chocolate to a prisoner of war like him, then might as well enjoy it.

He pulls the wrapping off and takes one bite. Holding it there, he lets the chocolate melt in his mouth. Oh, that’s nice. It’s amazing how quick one can experience bliss from something so simple, all thanks to the shortage because of this war. 

“See?” Prussia says. “Don’t question. Just enjoy it.”

“It’s really good,” Canada mumbles around the chocolate bar. “I still miss maple syrup, though.”

“Hah? Is that something common to where you’re from?”

Canada nods. “Mhmm. Have you ever had any?”

He glances over to Prussia to judge his reaction. That silvery white hair grabs his attention, though. Since Prussia’s taken off his hat, it’s out and wild in its full glory. A part of him wants to touch it and run his fingers through it, but, oh, that’s stupid. Apparently, he doesn’t need to be drunk to think the albino look really works for the man in front of him. It’s not even that; his attitude is…

_ Stop, stop, stop, do not go any further. _

“Don’t think so,” Prussia says with a semblance of a shrug, an impressive feat since he’s laying down.

Canada blinks, then sighs sadly. “I feel so sorry for you.”

That gets him a narrowed eyed reaction. Funny what manages to get under this guy’s skin. “Don’t.”

“But maple syrup is so good,” Canada says after taking another bite. “At least it explains why you get so angry so easily, though.”

“What?” Prussia blinks, the glare dropping. “The hell?”

Canada opts not to answer. Instead he focuses on the chocolate bar. He knows he should probably savor it, eat it slowly. But he can’t help it. It’s been so long since he tasted anything sweet, and the chocolate is  _ so good _ . 

“No, don’t go quiet,” Prussia says as he sits up. “Explain what you meant there. I do  _ not _ get angry easily.”

“Yes you do. Anytime you think I’m underestimating you, you get really angry really fast. And just then you were glaring at me for feeling sorry for you, even for something as simple as not ever having maple syrup.”

“Keh,” Prussia scoffs, lying back down on the bed, both hands behind his head. “Okay so you found the few rare things that can really piss me off. Congratulations.”

The albino nation gets back in that comfortable position, resting his boots on the nightstand. His hands are behind his head, so he holds the chocolate bar in his mouth, almost like he’s sucking on it. Doing a better job of savoring it than Canada, that’s for sure. 

And Canada can’t help but stare at him like this. His eyes keep going to that mouth. Oh, he needs to stop. Shake it off. Stop thinking dirty thoughts. This guy is in charge of watching him; he’s a guard and Canada is the prisoner. This isn’t some kind of weird stockholm syndrome thing going on, is it? 

Or is he really just appreciating the fact that Prussia hasn’t been the monster everyone warned him about it?

“You know,” he says with a smile. “You’re not as bad as England said.”

The chocolate bar snaps and Prussia has to pull it off his chest and swallow what’s in his mouth before turning those beautiful - er - gleaming red eyes on him. “What? Arthur’s shit talking me now?”

“He just said to watch out for you,” Canada shrugs. “And that you’d do whatever it takes to see you and Germany on top.”

“Tch. Well he’s not wrong,” Prussia mumbles. “I’m definitely a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. And I don’t take too kindly to anyone getting in my brother’s way.”

Those red eyes drift to stare up at the ceiling so Canada huffs, because he’s starting to like having that look turned on him. Still. He takes a moment to think through what Prussia just told him. And he frowns.

“So you’re okay with what he’s doing?”

To his surprise, Prussia actually winces. “I didn’t say that.”

“That’s good to know at least.”

“Why?” Those red eyes come back to him. “I’m still your enemy.”

_ True, but… _

“You seem nice enough.”

“Nice?” Prussia’s eyebrows raise and Canada almost chuckles at the shocked look. “You think I’m  _ nice _ ?”

Holding out the last of his chocolate bar, Canada waves his arm in the air. “Nice to give me some of your rations at least. Not only rare food rations, but beer and  _ chocolate _ .”

“Tch,” Prussia scoffs, closing his eyes, and going back to his comfortable position. “Didn’t think something that simple would count as nice.”

Canada hums and smiles. “You also haven’t tried torturing me for information, and it’s been a few weeks at least.”

This gets a bigger reaction. He watches as the chocolate bar in Prussia’s mouth snaps again. The nation seems to tense on the bed, but his eyes stay closed. Or narrowed. It’s hard to tell if he opened then again. Maybe he’s tired. 

Canada smiles. It would be hilarious if the man fell asleep in here. Door open and everything. Then he’d just have to go downstairs and find the perfect opportunity to slip out. 

Would that get Prussia in trouble, though? They’re nations so they’re usually not bound to the same rules, but something strange is going on in this country. So he has to wonder. Would he run or hold back out of fear of hurting Prussia in the long run?

...that’s stupid. God, Al would so make fun of him if he could hear these thoughts. Once again, he has to remind himself that he’s a prisoner and Prussia is his guard. He shouldn’t worry about him. At all. Damn, but it really is easy for him to fall for someone, isn’t it? 

Well, there’s no torturing going on, and he doesn’t want to see Prussia fall asleep anyway. The conversation is nice.

“So,” he says into the silence. “You called England by his human name. You two must have a lot of history together, huh?”

“Hm,” Prussia hums. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“I wonder if you two were ever good friends.”

“We had an alliance,” Prussia pauses for a moment, swallowing the last of his chocolate and frowning up at the ceiling. “For what that’s worth.”

“Do you think -” he cuts off, then decides to ask anyway. “Do you think it’s possible for people like us to have friends outside of alliances?”

“Definitely. Though friends can just as easily become enemies over time.”

Canada takes a moment. Hums to himself. He has another question, but it might seem a little strange in this situation. He’s thinking toward the future, he reminds himself. Once this war is said and done with and well -

“Do you think we could,” he licks his lips to keep his throat from going dry. “Do you think we could be friends when this war is over?”

Prussia practically jolts up on the bed, staring over at him with wide eyes. “Hah? You must be thinking your side is going to win the war, because no way in hell would you think we could be friends if West and I take over the world.”

Canada tenses, flicking his eyes around the room awkwardly, not having expected that reaction of all things. “Uhm...I mean...yes?”

“Everyone always believes they’ll win. I doubt you guys will though. No offense, but we’re just too awesome.” Prussia smirks and lays back down on the bed. “I wouldn’t mind having a friend from the other side if we actually lost, though. No telling what your little allied group would do to us once they find out what’s been happening over here.”

“Right...I think you should-”

Chewing his cheek, Canada sighs and gives up that train of thought. He doesn’t know Prussia well enough. There’s no way he could get away with asking the man to turn on his brother. He’s sure it would be for the best, but Prussia probably wouldn’t take any kind of advice like that. 

Prussia’s voice comes out as a harsh bark layered with typical anger. “If you think I can do anything about what you’ve seen, then you clearly haven’t realized why I’m sitting here instead of fighting on the front lines.”

“Sorry,” Canada mumbles. “You’re right. I guess I just hoped there was a way to stop it all.”

“Is that what you were doing in the capital? Trying to find a way to shut down the camps?”

Canada shakes his head. “No. It was something else.”

“Something you’re never going to tell me.”

“Maybe after the war.”

Prussia huffs. “Like it’ll be useful then.”

Chewing his bottom lip, Canada tries a weak response. “It’ll sate your curiosity.”

“Maybe.”

Silence stalks around them and Canada takes another moment to admire the other nation on the bed. How can he look so relaxed? How can he be so content with this situation? Sure, he’s not a prisoner, but Canada’s starting to realize the albino appearance isn’t working in his favor at all.

That’s probably something that’s making him on edge and so easy to anger. Canada can’t imagine what it feels like to have your own citizens dislike you. Without even knowing who you are, too. Just because of how you look.

But that silvery hair is so unique. He’s mesmerized by it  _ and _ those red eyes, especially when they’re not upset or angry. They can look so soft when he’s calm and relaxed. If only Prussia weren’t wearing that evil uniform. It’s hard to excuse him for wearing the uniform of the same group that’s always guarding the camps, even if the blue color isn’t seen on anyone else, which separates him even more. 

_ Even if he still looks hot… _

_...wait what? _

Shaking his head, Canada focuses back on what Prussia is saying. Better to not let his thoughts wander. They’re getting out of hand. His attraction to an enemy soldier is  _ not _ a good thing. Funny how even the reminder in his mind feels half-hearted. 

“You’re lucky West decided to put you in my place,” Prussia says. “This bed is much nicer than what regular POWs get.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Canada scoffs. “Be sure to thank him for me, then.”

Red eyes glance over at him and there’s a hint of an actual smile on that face, but Prussia answers as if he didn’t catch the sarcasm dripping in those words. “Yeah, sure, next time he’s in town, I guess.”

_ Germany is going to be leaving town? Oh, if only I could let someone know that information. I wonder where he’s heading off to. _

“So,” Canada murmurs, chewing on his bottom lip. “You don’t have any other jobs besides watching me?”

Prussia lets out a long sigh. “Nope. I’m beginning to wonder if they’re just using it as an excuse to keep me here as long as possible.”

“Why would they do that? England said to watch out for you since you’re so good at fighting.”

_ And other reasons, but let’s focus on the one he prides himself on.  _

Prussia scoffs. “Cause they’re idiots caught up in their own propaganda bullshit.”

“Oh,” Canada hums. “That kind of sucks, huh?”

The albino nation flinches and Canada feels kind of bad for bringing this all up. He doesn’t have anything personal against Prussia, so reminding him of his situation feels a little mean. Apparently, what he’s been thinking is the truth after all. 

They’re keeping Prussia on watch, too. He’s not sure if the man even goes outside of his house. There’s no way to know for sure, since Canada is stuck here, but he wouldn’t be surprised if the guards started keeping him trapped here too. 

“Yeah,” Prussia grumbles. “It kinda does.”

“Why though?” Canada asks, pushing for more despite the way his heart breaks at seeing the look on that pale face. “What are they teaching that keeps you from fighting?”

“Tch. I’m sure they’d be fine with me fighting on any front, so long as I wasn’t in a position to be someone calling the shots.”

“But you’re a nation,” Canada says slowly. “If you’re on the battlefield, then you should be in charge.”

“Exactly!” Prussia exclaims, throwing his hands up before pounding a fist back down to the bed. “So what do they do? Find a reason to keep me here!”

“What would happen to you if I got out though? They can’t do much worse than what they’re already doing, right?”

Oh, he hates seeing the way Prussia flinches back. It makes him wonder if they  _ could _ do something worse. But they wouldn’t dare throw a country into one of those horrendous labor camps. Would they? Is Prussia questioning his own invincibility from such things? 

When Prussia turns to glance at him, there’s no hint of that fear in his voice or his eyes, so Canada has to rethink what he just witnessed. “You’re not getting out on my watch.”

“It was worth a shot,” he shrugs. “So where have they been sending you to fight?”

This question proves to be a mistake. Prussia doesn’t answer. Instead, the albino nation sits up, eyes wide as he stares at Canada. A finger comes out, pointing at him accusingly and Canada knows he messed up. Made that last one too obvious. 

“Hold up. No,” Prussia states. “You’re not supposed to be getting information from me. That’s not how this works.”

Under his breath, Canada mutters. “Mapleleaf.”

“How did you even do that?” Prussia asks, eyes still very wide. “The hell…”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Canada shrugs. “I think you’ve been wanting someone to talk with, honestly.”

Oh, the red eyes are flashing again. Now he’s done it. “That’s not true.”

“Then why did you just dump all of that? You seem pretty pent up to me.”

“I am not!”

Oh, yep, there it is. Prussia snaps and stands up. He snatches his hat from the lampstand and practically smashes it on his head. It’s not on correctly, more that usual lopsided look he’s always boasting, but his red eyes sure aren’t happy. His body is twitching, even. 

Must’ve really hit a chord there. 

“You’re leaving again?” Canada asks.

“Why the hell would I stay? You obviously don’t appreciate my awesomeness.”

“You always leave so angry, but you’re still so nice to me,” Canada hums, tilting his head, meeting the glare head on and not even flinching back this time. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know!” Prussia shouts. He breaks the glare and turns away, stomping toward the door. Oh, yeah, definitely got under his skin with the questions this time. “I just - I - aghhh!”

The door slamming isn’t really unexpected, but Canada shuts his eyes at the loud noise anyway. So much for a decent conversation. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed too hard. Prussia even left without really locking the door.

Wait…

Jumping off his chair, Canada rushes over to the door and gapes. It’s open. He sneaks a peek out beyond the door, just in time to catch Prussia stomping down the stairs. The door is open. He could… Is this an opportunity?

Hand on the doorknob, he shakes a little as he tries to think straight. No, no he can’t. There’s no easy way out of here. Especially if Prussia is actually trapped in this house, too. Under house arrest or whatever it may be. Another nation so close makes escape impossible.

Oh, but he can’t believe he’s undone the great Prussia enough to even  _ have _ this chance. Chewing his bottom lip, he heaves a giant sigh, and slowly closes the door. No, there’s no reason to push his luck. 

That “yet” is still dancing around in the back of his mind. If he were to try to escape - and get caught in the act - he might push Prussia into doing what he’s been threatening this whole time. And for some reason, he doesn’t want to push the albino nation anymore.

For some reason...he cares.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes: I'm not apologizing for how long this took. This is for fun. And COVID-19 sucks. Sure we can all agree about that, huh?

4

Prussia has decided to walk around town without his uniform, opting instead to wear a blue button-down shirt and black pants. He doesn’t feel like he’s part of the military at this point, and besides, he’s just going to raid his brother’s house. West isn’t here so he won’t know a thing. 

It’s not his fault the locals in charge of his rations have been shirking on their duties. He’s not sure if it’s on purpose or not, but he sure as hell won’t let it get him down. Still, he has to eat something, and he needs to feed Canada. So he’ll go down to West’s place and snatch some food while his brother isn’t around to complain.

That’s the plan, at least. 

When he walks up to the large mansion of a house, he scowls, more at the absence of the military truck which reminds him that West is off fighting  _ without him _ . He’s long forgiven his brother for kicking him out of the house they used to share. Well, mostly. West is fighting (and losing to) his inner monster and when Prussia bad-mouthed their current leader one too many times, it meant Prussia was out on his own. So that’s why he’s not living in the same mansion anymore, and why he has his own small townhouse-style of a place to call home.

He expects everything will go back to normal once this war is over. Maybe it’ll take as long as getting the current leader out of power and pushing back on the terrible propaganda, but  _ eventually _ Prussia will be back in Germany’s house. For now, though, he walks up to the large white mansion, finds the key hidden under the placemat, and opens the door into the spacious entryway.

“Yo, Austria,” he calls as he shuts the door behind him and walks down the tile of the entryway toward the main living area. “The awesome me has come to take your rations for myself, just like old times!”

He doesn’t hear a response. Maybe - maybe - the sound of a newspaper rustling, but it’s not until he full on strides into the living area that he sees the Austrian nation sitting on Germany’s plush couch, drinking tea, and glaring directly at him.

So he smirks and leans against the doorway, hanging under the arch of the white baseboards. “Good, you’re here. I’m not talking to myself.”

Austria huffs. “Hello, Gilbert.”

There’s no friendliness in the words. No welcome in the glare. Of course not. Prussia and Austria have only been at each other’s throats for years. History is not something so easily forgotten and brushed aside. 

He takes a moment to stare at his past-enemy current-ally, taking in the way Austria always manages to look put together no matter what’s going on in his country. He  _ does _ look a little worn, his cheeks sunken, less color in them than usual. War isn’t exactly an easy thing to deal with for any of them. That annoying ass mole sits on Austria’s chin so close to his mouth, bringing attention to the haughty attitude present even in his frown. 

Fucking Roderich. Guy pisses him off just by existing sometimes.

“You look bored as fuck,” Prussia says with a snort. “West not leave you anything to do?”

There’s a slight twitch in Austria’s frown, but otherwise his manner remains calm and stony. “I am perfectly entertained without him ‘leaving me something to do.’”

“Tch. Whatever,” Prussia scoffs as he crosses his arms. “You got some extra food I can have or am I going to have to start poking around on my own?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll let you take what you want.”

He raises an eyebrow at Roderich’s tone. “You think you can stop me?”

Silence meets him in return. Their eyes stay locked. A thrill runs up his spine at the nostalgic stand-off routine, even if this is over something far less than anything they’ve faced each other for in the past. 

They’ll never get along. It’s just a fact. Too much history. And Lizzy in between them, too, though she’s not with either of them now. Of course, technically, they’re both under him - or Germany - now, but it doesn’t mean they can be friendly with each other. It doesn’t mean they’ll  _ ever _ be friendly.

After a lengthy battle of wills, Roderich turns his gaze and huffs. “Very well. It’s not as if I’ve been able to stop you two thus far.”

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he moves in to get closer to Austria, hands slipping into his pockets. “Oh come on. I know you can put up more of a fight than that.”

“I repeat,” Roderich says as he sips his tea, though now that he’s closer, Prussia notes the tremble of anger just barely unmasked in those delicate fingers. “I haven’t been able to stop you two, so why should I fight over food now?”

“You’re no fun.”

This gets him more of a reaction. Austria slams his teacup on the close coffee table and shoots him a revealing glare. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize when you both annexed me that it meant I was under an obligation to entertain you.”

He winces at the reminder. Annexing a nation could involve its own form of entertainment. They hadn’t exactly been nice. To anyone, Austria included. 

“You still upset about that? We’re kicking ass, and at least you get to stay in West’s house with full rations and more, right?”

“‘Still upset about that’,” Austria repeats, his narrowed eyes refusing to let up. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

With a shrug, Prussia waves his hand in the air and tries to hold back a growl. He kind of wants to smack Roderich in the face right now, but that would do no one any good. Coming over to bug his past rival probably wasn’t the best idea, but it’s too late now. West isn’t here to come between them, so if a full out brawl happens, he  _ doesn’t care _ . Besides, he’s a better fighter when it comes down to it. Knock those stupid glasses right off his fucking face.

He manages to stay calm enough to hold down the monster. Manages to keep himself from imploding. Manages to continue the verbal sparring with his tone mostly in control, too.

“I don’t know,” he growls, “Maybe because you’re on the winning side this time.”

“Not of my own free will.”

Austria’s comeback is too quick, but instead of throwing a punch, Prussia tosses his hands in the air and turns his back. Retreat and fight another day. It’s not like it matters in the end. Austria is here whether he likes it or not. He’ll be more appreciative when they come out of this on top of the war. He’ll like being under them when the war is over. 

“Fucking whatever,” he says through a clenched jaw. “I don’t have time for this.”

Stomping off into the kitchen, he pulls open cupboards, noting the actual plentiful amount of food in here. Really does pay to be living in Germany’s house right now. Austria gets to be spoiled and still complain about his lot in life, meanwhile  _ he _ has to suffer with the glares and whispers and meager rations. 

So maybe that’s why he’s stuffing the non-perishables into a bag and slamming cabinet doors closed as he goes around snatching everything that catches his eye. Fruit isn’t bad. That’s a surprise. Bread and eggs are good. The only thing West is really lacking in here is a good choice of meat, but at least he has  _ something _ .

Damn, his brother isn’t even here to enjoy all this. It’s all for prissy Austria. West is off fighting, dealing with battlefield gruel and whatever else he can manage to cook. He wonders if Italy is out there, too. Feliciano would make pasta out of dirt if he had to, so if he’s with West, then their food situation is probably better than normal. 

“Why do you need food from us anyways?”

“Because,” he mutters, only a little surprised that Roderich followed him in here to continue having a conversation. “They’re not giving me enough to feed both me and Canada. Hell, I think they’re skimping on what rations they give me in the first place.”

“Why would they be doing that?”

He freezes, putting a can of green beans in his bag and blinking up at Roderich. The asshole doesn’t even seem to guess what the issue could be. Maybe that’s not so assholish of him after all, or maybe he’s just dense. Even meeting his eyes gets nothing more than a curious, stubbornly raised eyebrow and nothing more. 

With a scoff, he turns back to his food raid. “Got me…”

“Don’t tell me,” Roderich goes on. “They want more than just your freedom now.”

“Tch. What are you even on about…” he mutters and then shakes his head before his thoughts can drift somewhere unpleasant. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It just makes things annoying when I have to take care of someone else at my own house.”

“Why are you the one doing that? I heard Germany is out fighting. Why aren’t you with him?”

It almost sounds like an interrogation, but he can sense a hint of curiosity in Austria’s voice questions, so he shrugs and answers anyway. Talking is nice. He’s practically done gathering food now. In goes the last canned item and then he makes a knot in the bag and tests its strength before setting it back on the table and meeting Roderich’s quiet and patient gaze.

“I asked the same fucking thing, but West wouldn’t listen. Apparently I’m the only one qualified enough to torture another nation for information.”

Something flashes in Austria’s dark eyes, like a spark of memory that’s quickly tossed to the side. “How tough are they to crack?”

His hands go on the counter and he bites the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know. I haven’t felt much like torturing this one for some reason.”

Wide eyes stare across the table. Prussia meets his old rival’s gaze but keeps his mouth shut. He can see the disbelief plain as day across that face. And he rolls his eyes at the way Roderich keeps opening and closing his mouth like he can’t find the words to speak anymore. 

So he narrows his eyes. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I can explain it.”

“But,” Austria murmurs, licking his lips. “Isn’t that one of your specialities? Yours and your brother’s?”

“It’s not like -” He cuts off the sentence and runs his hands through his hair, scratching almost obsessively. “Agh, whatever, don’t you think we’ve committed enough atrocities this time around? So what if I don’t feel like torturing anymore? I’d be better out on the battlefield and away from this propaganda riddled suffocating sense of terror anyway.”

“Ah, you don’t like the propaganda, then. Good to know.”

“Seriously? You think I did?”

Austria shrugs, his voice hard but dropping in volume. “I wasn’t sure. Your people certainly seem into it.”

Prussia scowls. “Not all of them.”

“Evidently not. Your side clearly doesn’t.”

“There’s…” He starts his words, then swallows and stares down at the ground, finding his voice weak. He’s tired. So, so tired. “There’s too much fear going around and people do stupid things when they’re scared.”

His words hang in the air for a moment. It’s suffocating, as he’s said before. Even in this house. Austria probably feels worse from his own people, since they didn’t want to join the regime anyway, and now they’ve been forced. Poked and prodded until they did what Germany wanted. Prussia always likes sticking it to Austria, so he shouldn’t care, but then having that terror coming from his own citizens makes him want to throw up so he can imagine the pain he’s inflicted on his former rival.

It’s sickening, is what it is. And he can’t do a damn thing about it at this point. West has even pulled him from the battlefield for a stupid interrogation mission. And, what? Prussia can’t even make himself do that much anymore. 

He wants to go back to fighting. It’s so much easier to stop thinking and stop feeling when he’s fighting.

The silence stalks around and eventually gets to be too much so he shakes his head to force the thoughts away and grabs the bags of food in his hands. “Bah. Whatever.”

Roderich follows him with his eyes. “Going back to that captive nation now? Why are you bothering to feed him anyways?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He says, glancing over his shoulder as he walks to the door. “He’s definitely nicer to talk to than  _ you _ are, for one.”

“He’s your prisoner.”

“As if I don’t know that. I’m bored. He’s entertaining.” He shrugs.

“Entertaining?”

Rolling his eyes, he scoffs and makes his way to the front door of the mansion. “You know. He’s part of the British Empire and kind of been sheltered by Arthur so it’s interesting to talk with him.”

His footsteps practically echo as he walks, almost like they’re giving him away. Like the house itself can hear the lie in his words. It’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s more than what he’s saying. If it weren’t such bad, awful, terrible timing, he might admit to it, too. 

But…

But he can’t.

“Besides,” he adds, smirking over his shoulder as he reaches the door. “If I play the good guy angle long enough, he’ll really crack once I let myself snap, right?”

Austria’s eyes widen, then roll as he gives a prissy little huff. “Should’ve known you would say something like that.”

“Damn right you should have,” he says, feeling more in control of the whole situation than he’s felt for the past few weeks. “I’ll be back if I need more food.”

Austria doesn’t even acknowledge his statement as he leaves.

~!~

Canada sighs for what must be the thousandth time as he flips through a book. His German isn’t the best, but he can get by - something he’s not going to tell Prussia or anyone else as a captive. The less they suspect or know about him, the better. Besides, it’s easy to fool Prussia, since the nation seems stubborn about treating Canada like a weak nobody nation. “Just a part of the British Empire” and all. 

Surprising to know Prussia respects England as much as he does. That’s something he never would have guessed, that’s for sure. Allies at one point, Prussia had said, but then, over here, allies and enemies switch like it’s nothing. Maybe it’s because of all the years they’ve been so cramped together on this continent. Whereas Canada and America have land beyond what anyone over here can boast..

It’s a whole different world over here, and Canada’s only here because of the war. He hopes one day he can come over here to explore and enjoy his time. One day. When the war is over. He prays enough of the historical buildings will still be standing  _ to _ enjoy. With all the bombings, he’s afraid too much has already been destroyed. 

The reminder makes him flashback to visions of London and other cities in Britain. The German Blitz had turned the place into a mess.  _ Everything _ was being destroyed. Not just the people, but so much of their  _ history _ .

With another sigh, Canada tosses the book he’s reading off to the side. It’s too much of a headache trying to translate it as he reads anyway. Some older German talking about Prussian history of all things, most especially during the War of Austrian Succession. Of  _ course _ Prussia would have that in his house. The albino nation seems to be pretty proud of his past and his previous accomplishments. 

Too bad he’s now supporting so much genocide, whether he’s personally for it or not. Clenching his hands into fists, Canada climbs off the bed and moves to the window. It’s getting too dark outside to see much, but he can still make out the patrols of the guards around the building. Odd. Seems like they’ve doubled security. Or at least added to it. He doesn’t remember seeing that many walking around here the last time. 

Why do that? He hasn’t caused any trouble. So long with just the few guards and now it’s almost like they’re trying to keep Prussia here, too. 

Canada frowns at the thought, catching the sound of angry German from downstairs. It’s muffled, of course, and hard to make out. But it sounds like someone is getting yelled at for...leaving? Are they _ actually _ keeping Prussia here under house arrest after all, then? That’s strange. He’s supposed to be high up in the military as their nation. He should have respect. What did he do to get them to treat him like that?

_ Mapleleaf _ , he thinks, rubbing his head.  _ Why do I even care?  _

While Prussia hasn’t done anything to warrant fear or disdain, he certainly shouldn’t be pitied or looked at as anything  _ but _ a threat. Canada is a prisoner here. He needs to remember that. Even if Prussia is treating him well and talking with him like he’s some sort of willing guest, the line doesn’t need to keep being blurred. Prisoner, not friend. It’s getting harder and harder to remember to keep his guard up.

Maybe that’s the whole point.

Footsteps on the stairs draw his attention to the door before it opens. Prussia stands in the doorway, clearing his throat, and looking for all the world like an embarrassed lost puppy. Canada has to shake himself to keep from smiling. 

“Hey, uh,” Prussia says. “The door was unlocked this whole time. Did you know that?”

A smile sneaks through against his better judgement and Canada nods. “Yeah, but this place is still surrounded.”

Red eyes glance to the side and down, as if avoiding his gaze. “Right, but uh, it’s just you and me in the house and all.”

Now that’s a strange thing to point out. Canada raises an eyebrow, starting to find it weird how Prussia is shuffling his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. Like he wants to ask something. A favor or… 

He frowns. What’s going on?

“Are you saying,” Canada says slowly, “That I can walk around the house freely?”

Prussia shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, it’s got to be boring as hell stuck in one room all the time, right?”

“ _ Oui _ it is, but what if I find something I shouldn’t?”

To his surprise Prussia merely scoffs it off. “Fuck if I care about that anymore.”

Which definitely  _ is _ shocking. He’s being kept here because he’s a nation and a spy. Canada’s whole purpose for being in Berlin is to search out information, and, well, other things, but he can’t very well  _ stop _ looking for intel even as a prisoner. He’s proven it’s not hard to get information out of Prussia when the man wants to be talkative, especially as it concerns himself. 

So why let him wander around freely? There has to be plenty worth hiding in this house. So why?

“Oh, uhm,” he says into the silence, biting his bottom lip as he looks around awkwardly. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

The other nation leans against the arch of the doorway and gives a half-hearted shrug. “Well, I have a television set but it’s been kind of shit lately so I’ve just been playing the radio for music. But that gets boring so -”

As Prussia drifts off, Canada closes his eyes and listens harder. Yeah, if he tries he can make out some kind of radio static and music - or what he assumes is music - in the distance. It’s not very loud, so it must not be close, but the sound is still there. At the very least, Prussia isn’t lying to him. Not about this.

The whole ‘you can walk around the house’ feels too much like a set-up though. He’s on edge even as the albino nation in front of him flushes lightly and clears his throat.

“Look, ah,” Prussia mumbles. “Do you play any card games? Some kind of poker or something?”

Canada blinks. “Uhm. Yeah. I play a few.”

Prussia’s red eyes light up immediately. “Awesome. Come play with me then.”

All of his warning bells are going off, but nothing is happening and it’s making him even more on edge. This isn’t right. Prussia is making nice with his prisoner. Even as he gets up and follows the albino nation out of the room, Canada can’t help but keep his distance and hold his breath in anticipation of some kind of trick.

It just...doesn’t make sense to be anything else, does it? Biting the inside of his cheek, he refuses to bring up a conversation, instead watching carefully as Prussia leads him down some rickety stairs, through a hallway, and into a den of some sort. 

The lighting is dim but soothing coming from antique lamps placed around the room. There is a radio, as Prussia had said, and it’s definitely playing music. Classical? Never would have pegged Prussia as the type. More surprises every day, apparently. There’s also a television set, but the rabbit ears are spread out in every direction because it looks like once again, Prussia was telling the truth about it being difficult.

Still. He doesn’t like this. It’s too much of an attempt to play friendly. It’s too obvious. 

He freezes as Prussia sits down at a well carved wooden table, pulling up a chair and gesturing at another one. Maybe it’s  _ not _ an attempt to be friendly to twist him for information. Maybe he really  _ is _ wanting to be friendly. He stares at the red eyes for a moment, trying to delve into their depths and figure out their secrets, but he only gets a smirk for his trouble.

“You know,” Prussia says as he sits and Canada slowly finds a spot across from him. “If we’re going to be playing cards, we might as well give out our human names.”

Canada holds back the urge to jerk back at the strange request. “Huh? You think so?”

The albino nation takes a deck of cards and begins to shuffle them. Canada watches his fingers move, finding it mesmerizing how quick and in control the man is in such a situation. Here he is all on edge and Prussia is treating it like nothing out of the ordinary.

Which makes his attempt of a smile fall immediately. Prussia has probably done this a million times with a million different people, nation or human. So it’s nothing new to him, nothing special. He’s just bored and reaching out because his own people aren’t being so nice to him. Even if it’s strange for them to treat their own nation like that…

“Yeah, it’s like a form of, well, maybe not friendship, but camaraderie?” The other nation says as he deals out cards for their game. “I’m always playing cards with my soldiers during down time. Can’t exactly go by Prussia around them. The only nation I’ve played cards with that, well, that you’d know well enough would be Arthur or Franics.” He flashes his grin and for a moment Canada melts in his seat. “And we’re already on a first name basis thanks to the past.”

Taking a breath, Canada nods and awkwardly gives the other nation what he wants. “Oh. Uhm. I’m Matthew. And you?”

“Gilbert.” There’s that smile again. It’s different from the smirk, more relaxed and homey. Canada can’t help but stare even as the man in front of him drops the smile to focus on his cards. Right. Game. Focus. “Relax a bit, Matthew. Loosen up. Have some fun.”

Warmth spills into his stomach when Prussia says his name. It shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t. He has to remind himself so often that it’s starting to become more than he can handle, but he manages to squeak out a few words as he tries to draw a winning hand.

“Fun? But I’m a prisoner here. There’s nothing fun about it.”

“No, but that’s why you have to make the most of it. Considering how nice I’m being.”

“To be honest, you’re kind of freaking me out with how nice you’re being.”

“It’s nothing sinister, I promise. I’m just bored and - ah - well -” Prussia clears his throat. “You were right. The other day.”

This makes Canada look away from his cards. He’s pretty sure he has a winning hand anyway, especially with how Prussia is acting.  _ If _ he’s reading him right. He doesn’t know the albino nation all that well, yet, but he’s learned to trust his gut instincts about people. They’re usually right.

“About what?”

Red eyes look away from him and grunt as Prussia mumbles. “About the whole needing to talk to someone thing.”

“I’m the same way.”

There’s that smile again, and Canada’s jitters are beginning to melt away the longer they talk. Then Prussia drops a bomb. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

Just in time for his heart to skip a beat. “H-huh?”

“Nothing,” Prussia rushes out. “Didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“But you did.” Canada states. “And now I’m confused.”

“Well then you get to stay confused.”

Prussia continues to act flustered, moving his cards around in his hand, mumbling something under his breath. His white skin flushes obviously around his cheeks and he has to admit, it’s kind of cute. The man keeps his mouth closed though. 

So Canada smiles and shakes his head, not sure why he’s about to say this but finding it hard to hold it in any longer. “Well, for what it’s worth. I’m starting to like you, too.”

“Why?” Prussia says, with a raised eyebrow. “I know I’m awesome, but - I’m part of what’s keeping you captive here.”

He lets out a breath, looks down at his cards, tries to appear nonchalant as he shrugs. “I think you’re just following orders. I don’t think you’re doing these things because you want to -  _ any _ of these things.”

Gilbert looks up at him, mouth opening slightly before he catches himself. Matthew knows he has him pegged now. And it’s hard not to smirk a little himself. Hell, it feels nice humanizing the other nation a little now. Gilbert is a nice name. 

“That - that could be dangerous thinking for a captive,” Gilbert says after a moment. “You’re lucky that you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.” Matthew says, calling the end to the game and showing his cards. He lets the smirk run free across his face now as he notes the other nation’s wide-eyed shock and whispered German curse. “I’m really good at reading people, remember?”


	5. Chapter 5

5

The games continue through the evening. The overhead fan clicks above because of it’s slightly lopsided condition. The lamplight appears to flicker in response to each fan click. And the music from the radio plays sweet sonatas and nocturnes. 

Canada watches Gilbert as the night wears on, listening to him ramble on about anything and everything. At some point, his listening takes on a different form and he no longer pokes him for more information. Instead, he _watches_ as those lips move, as the eyes dance from humorous teasing to a glance outside that leads to a sad glow. 

It’s hard to explain, but he feels more and more captivated with each breath, each word, each card game. His heart has calmed and warmed up. He’s not sure if this is a good thing, but the atmosphere is far too relaxing to stay on edge the entire time. 

He’s going to trust himself now. He’s good at reading people, after all. He likes to boast that he is at the very least. So he should trust these feelings, right? Trust that Prussia doesn’t like the situation. Trust that there’s no harm meant and that Gilbert is risking far more by not complying with orders to interrogate him. 

Instead of following orders like the good soldier he’s supposed to be, Prussia is playing cards with his captive. And Canada finds himself smiling more often as the evening drags on. He loses any track of where he is and what he should be focused on, too. 

He continues to beat Prussia in poker until the albino nation declares to change the game. At this point, Canada shrugs and let’s the man do whatever he wants. It almost feels like home, playing against America or England. Both of them sore losers, both of them insisting on changing the game whenever they can’t handle their losing streak. To a game that isn’t so much about reading people.

This is why he makes such a good asset to his spy organizations, why he prefers to go along with them instead of blasting things in a battlefield. America may be obsessed with his fighter pilot planes and air strikes, and England of course loves his navy, but Canada absolutely shines when he has to sneak into guarded areas or get the enemy to talk in a more comfortable, unsuspecting situation. 

He does it so naturally. And he’s such a good listener that he can’t help but sit back and let Prussia spill whatever’s on his mind. Not only is he learning things about the so-called terror of a war-loving nation, but he’s learning about _Gilbert_ and to his surprise, he’s actually _invested_.

At some point, the radio music switches to some flute concerto, and Matthew notices how Gilbert’s fingers drum on the table in a very specific pattern. Like he’s playing along. He watches for a moment or two, trying to work out if it’s just a habit to tap to the beat or what it actually looks like, then he shakes his head and tells himself he’s thinking something ridiculous. There’s no _way_ Prussia knows how to play the flute. It doesn’t suit him at all. 

Though he does take a moment to imagine it. Those lips gently blowing to form notes. Those long fingers curled and positioned properly on an instrument to make the softest sounds. The red eyes closed in concentration. The white hair shifting as his head bobs slightly with each inhale and exhale, or any movement in response to the feelings of the music.

Canada has to admit, he’s mesmerized just by the image. 

Too bad there’s no way it could happen. A war-loving nation is more likely to carry a sword and gun, laughing as blood is spilled around him in some gleeful exhilarating state on a battlefield. Not play a musical instrument, and especially nothing like the angelic, sweet touch of a gentle melody from a flute.

He takes in a breath, finishes shaking the imagery out of his head, and then frowns because the radio has switched. It’s no longer music. It’s a harsh bark of German, like a broadcast specifically made to interrupt everything. He tries to make out the words, wondering if it’s a warning or -

“Shit,” Prussia says, suddenly springing out of his chair. “Come on.”

Canada’s eyes widen at the serious focus in the albino’s demeanor change. “What? What did they say? What -”

“It’s not what they said,” Prussia hisses, reaching out to grab his arm and forcibly pull him out of the chair. “It’s what I’m feeling. We have to move. Now.”

“Ah, hey!” Canada snaps. “You don’t have to grab me.”

It’s a useless thing to say, though, because Prussia refuses to let go as he quickly leads him down the hallway and out to the meager backyard of his little town house. Canada takes a breath of the cold shock of air and nearly coughs as it hits his lungs. It’s been so long since he was outside…

But then they’re pulling open the doors to a bunker and he’s being shoved inside. That’s when the loud emergency sirens go off, and his heart jumps as he stumbles his way underground. Sirens. He’s been in England when he’s heard something similar so -

Looking back, he sees Prussia staring at the sky, scowling something under his breath before jumping in with him and closing them in darkness. Air raid. That’s what this is. He’s having flashbacks of sitting in a bunker with England. That was when his soldiers were stationed in London and making ready to move to the front. Before he found a job of his own. When air raids were a common thing in the island nation. 

Now it’s here. The fear isn’t as strong, but his heart still hammers. What happens if a nation is caught or killed in a bombing like this? He knows from experience that they can survive many, many scenarios, but this? What happens? Are they reborn? Does the immortality kick in and save them from the worst? What -

“Damn it!” Prussia shouts. “I can’t figure out who it is! There’s definitely a nation up there but I can’t put a face or name to that feeling. Who the fuck is attacking us now?”

Pushing his fears to the side, Canada looks up and shuts his eyes, focusing his mind to see if he can sense who Prussia is feeling. After a moment, the little twinge of familiarity crosses through him and he nods and mutters. “I feel them too.”

“Hah?” Prussia says, quieter. “Probably one of Arthur’s dominions then.”

Ah, right. This is Germany, so only Germany, and apparently Prussia, can sense when another nation crosses the borders. So the only reason Canada can feel them, too, is if it’s someone he’s connected with somehow. Since he’s under the British Empire, then it must be another nation under the British Empire as well. Matthew frowns. That could be any number of people, though, except England himself, since Prussia would no doubt recognize that nation signature considering they’re on a first name basis.

“You leave my baby brother alone!” Prussia yells toward the sky. “And get out of my capital!”

_Baby brother?_

Canada jerks his head up in an attempt to find the other nation standing around in this dark enclosed space. “You… You really care about him a lot, eh?”

“What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I do!” The walls around him shake and it takes Canada a moment to realize it’s just Gilbert pounding one of them with his fist. “I wouldn’t put up with the treatment from his commanders if I didn’t.”

Matthew smiles. “I really am growing to like you more and more.”

He gets no response, but at this moment he doesn’t care. He tries to imagine Gilbert blushing in the darkness, even as he hears the man huff and move around awkwardly like he’s looking for something. A part of him wonders why they’re the only two down here and why it’s so small, but then realizes most nations probably separate themselves from their fellow soldiers if possible in these situations. Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember seeing England with his fellow countrymen whenever they went down in bunkers, though he does remember something else, and he shivers at the image.

Hopefully he won’t have to see the same kind of brutal wounds hitting Prussia as the air raid comes through. He doesn’t want to relive such nightmarish scenes, not with someone he’s growing to like. 

Canada shudders while a match is struck and a light finally enters the darkness around them. A small candle in the corner, which isn’t all that far from where he’s curled up against one of the walls. A candle that Prussia now places on top of a small icebox.

Well, at least for now the albino nation seems unhurt. He hopes it stays that way. 

~!~

An air raid. He _hates_ air raids. Cursing under his breath, Prussia tries to force calm into his being. His hands shake slightly as he lights a match and then brings the match to a small candle to let the light fill the room. Small personal bunker, not room, he reminds himself. God damn it all, he hates this place. He hates this whole situation - being stuck underground and unable to fight back as someone pounds the shit out of his capital.

Fuck air raids.

As the candlelight flickers in the darkness, he turns to the icebox and hums under his breath. The piece in his head is one of Old Fritz’s compositions, something that had been playing on the radio just a few moments ago. Something that’s not going to leave his head anytime soon. 

He sighs and opens the icebox, only a little uplifted to find a whole six-pack of beer hiding out. Reaching in, he pulls out a single beer and opens it to down a nice gulp right away. It feels like shit going down. Not exactly the best brew, but, hey, it’s better than nothing. So he takes the whole pack and finds a place to sit down.

Next to Canada - Matthew, he amends in his mind. They’re on a first name basis now. Might as well let it stick. He likes the other nation, young and inexperienced and sheltered as he is; there’s still fire in his eyes when they catch gazes but Prussia _likes_ that look. He likes it a lot, actually.

“We’re going to be down here a while,” he says into the silence. “Might as well try to get drunk off the little stash I have left.”

“Youdon’twanttoseemedrunk.”

Prussia tries to keep from choking on his beer and instead lets it spit out of his mouth, thankfully to the other side of the area. It’s just that he didn’t expect Matthew’s response to be so _fast_. He wipes his mouth and chuckles, hitting his chest to keep from spitting up anything else. Damn, but that was funny.

“If you say that,” he says as he turns his gaze to the other nation. “You just make me want to see it more.”

Matthew’s cheeks blush lightly as the man shakes his head. “Non, trust me. You don’t.”

Mouth quirking up slightly, Gilbert snaps another beer can free from the six pack and holds it out to his current bunker mate. “Trust me. I do.”

For a moment, there’s no response. Matthew glances over at him, and Gilbert does his best to keep his smirk light. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s too over eager - or making fun of the younger nation. But he _likes_ seeing what people change into when they’re drunk. Most people are fun, and, well, no one’s going to be as hectic as Lizzy’s constant up and down emotional rollercoaster (though those are fun, too, so long as they’re alone and can switch between moping about the old days and battling it out in angry tirades without anyone to stop them).

So, yeah, he’s curious to see what this mild mannered colonized nation will be like, even if he’s more independent than other colonies, closer to equal with the nation who conquered him years ago. Canada probably has more history than Prussia knows about, but because he’s been behind Arthur’s shadow for so long, there’s been no reason to take an interest. Until now. 

Finally, Matthew releases a long drawn out sigh and snatches the can of beer. “I’m not even sure how much it would take me to get to that point,” he says as he opens the can and then takes a timid drink of his own. “But I could really use a buzz right now.”

With a grin, Gilbert lightly knocks their cans together. “You and me both.”

There’s another bout of silence echoing between them, then. He tries to focus on the beer and the search for a buzz, instead of the feeling of bombs hitting his countryside, his capital. Anything to get through this feeling of being trapped and pummeled. Hopefully West is safe wherever he is and not feeling the echoes of this attack. 

Holding back a grimace, Gilbert drowns himself in the alcohol, letting the somewhat weak flavor (it’s a cheap beer) tingle on his tongue before swallowing it where he can barely feel any sort of burn. Ah, but it’s better than nothing. Even if it’s not as helpful as he would have hoped.

“War sucks,” Matthew mumbles into the silence.

Gilbert chuckles. “Nah, _this_ war sucks.”

“What makes this one so special?”

The very question riles up a spark of anger within him and Prussia turns to glare at the younger nation. He takes a moment to look over the huddled form, trying to keep from blowing his top. Because it should be _fucking obvious_ why this war is different. 

He gestures at his hair and eyes before fixing the blue-violet gaze with his own albino red. “Ask me that again.”

The younger nation winces and mutters a muffled apology, which, honestly just annoys Prussia even more. 

“Why do you apologize so much?” he asks, letting the heat come out in his voice. “Need I remind you, you’re my prisoner.”

“Doesn’t mean I get to be insensitive to you,” Canada says. “You’re just doing your job. Like how I was just doing mine.”

He grunts, then gulps down some more of his cheap ass beer. “Better not be pitying me or some shit.”

“Maybe a little.”

Instant heat rises up in his body, and not the good simmering embarrassed heat, the kind that makes him want to punch something. Sure, the alcohol isn’t affecting him, but it doesn’t matter. He _hates_ pity. He’s the awesome Prussia. Pity is the _last_ thing he needs.

“No,” he scowls. “I don’t want your pity.”

Matthew doesn’t seem to notice the turn in Prussia’s demeanor, drinking at his own beer with a steady hand. “Can’t really help it. Sorry.”

Prussia growls over the apology this time. Growls and finishes off the last of the beer in this cheap ass can. Then he lets the frustration and anger out on the can itself instead of the person causing the feeling. With more force than is required - probably pulling on the strength of his nation in the process, by accident of course - Prussia smashes the beer can between his hands. 

Matthew flinches, but Gilbert gives little shit about startling him anymore. He tosses the now flat piece of metal into a corner and pulls another beer can out. When he opens the can, the top goes flying across the room, but he doesn’t care. He guzzles down another gulp of alcohol and, not for the first time, wishes he could get drunk on less. There’s not enough here to really get more than a little buzzed, _if_ he should be so lucky. 

Damn but the bombs falling sure don’t help anything. Easier to gulp down his frustrations when he’s fighting a sudden punch of pain to the gut, though. It’s stupid to be so worked up over so small a thing anyway. He should be better. Or so Lizzy always told him.

A few more minutes go by in awkward silence, and then Matthew puts his beer can down. Prussia knows the sound of an empty can so he reaches for another beer. Not many left, but, hey, this is what the stash down here is for. Just has to hope he finds a way to restock before the next time. He’s already down to so little. 

“Here,” he grumbles, tossing Matthew another beer, “You’ll need more than one to get drunk, right?”

Matthew stares at him, then groans and somewhat reluctantly takes the offered beer. “You’re not going to give that up, are you?”

“I told you,” Prussia grins. “Telling me I _don’t_ want to see something is a surefire way to make me curious.”

The other man sighs before gulping down some of his second can. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Prussia shrugs. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

There’s not much else to say so he watches Canada drink instead. He might be looking for it, but he’s sure there’s a nice little blush in the man’s cheeks now. He _is_ supposed to be a lightweight, so it wouldn’t surprise him too much. It would certainly be a nice turn of events to actually have him drunk down here, though.

A splash of fire hits his chest and Prussia grimaces, refusing to lift a hand to rub at the pain. He doesn’t want pity, so he’ll ignore all the air raid attacks that hit him. Ignore them the best he can. Damn, but he wishes he had more beer down here, or a stronger brew at the very least. 

Hissing between his teeth, he stares up at the ceiling. “Damn. They actually are making it pretty close for once. They better not hit my house. I like this place.”

“Yeah, that would _suck_.”

The other nation’s response makes him bark a laugh. “Is the alcohol helping already over there, Matthew?”

“Maybe,” Canada mumbles, then sighs. “Yeah, okay, I’m feeling a buzz, so I wouldn’t be shocked if I’m out of control by the end of this or a third one.”

He chuckles, taking a small drink from his own can. “You really are a massive lightweight then.”

“Sh-shut up! I’m just more of a wine drinker, that’s all!”

“Wine?” Prussia sticks his tongue out. “That’s disgusting. Who the fuck raised you to like wine? Certainly not Arthur. Ah, wait, Francis had you first huh?”

Matthew nods. And Prussia sits in an awkward silence for a moment, wondering if he said something wrong. There’s warmth close to him all of a sudden and it takes a moment to realize the other nation is leaning against him. Not like a child about to fall asleep, but like someone naturally moving next to someone they trust in the midst of a scary situation.

Not that he would put sitting in a bunker as a scary situation, though the mind can play tricks and hype up worries when alcohol lowers those inhibitions. Alcohol _does_ do weird things to people sometimes. Still, a little nice to know subconsciously someone is leaning on him. 

“You seem to know France pretty well,” Matthew says, before drowning himself in more beer.

Prussia smiles. “Yeah, we’re pretty close, though things have been up and down for years, and I’m sure he’s not all that happy with me right now.”

Recent memories hit him of what they did to Francis at the start of this war. Memories he wishes he could forget, memories he wishes weren’t real. God, but he feels like such an _ass_ for all that now. 

“Yeah, he really isn’t.”

Prussia winces at how point blank Canada says this, but then is reminded that the younger nation is drinking and loose with his tongue. He’s even starting to hum something to himself, which is cute. 

“Yeah,” Prussia sighs, drinking more of his beer to erase the bad memories, “I’ll have to make it up to him when this is all over.”

“Mhm,” Matthew mumbles. “This beer is really good.”

He laughs. “I can tell you’re enjoying it. Though it’s funny because it’s really not our best. It’s a cheap brand, not very strong, not the best flavor.”

“Seems pretty strong to me…”

“That’s because you’re a ridiculous level of lightweight,” Prussia says with a grin. “And pretty cute as well.”

Ah, this causes a more pronounced blush. “I’m not cute.”

“Actually,” he has to take a moment, pause, lean against the wall and close his eyes because _ow_ something close to him is getting wrecked out there, but then he breathes and the moment passes. “Actually, you are.”

“I’m adorable!” Canada insists with a huff. “There’s a difference.”

“Adorable, huh?”

Forcing his breathing to relax, Prussia smiles for Canada, and watches the other nation nod and finish off the second beer can. So he chuckles and reaches for a third. Cute, adorable, whatever he wants to call it, it’s nice. _He’s_ nice. 

“You want another one?”

“Mhm,” Matthew says, grabbing the third beer and going at it with a fervent need. “Like I said, it’s pretty good when you get used to it.”

“Just as long as you don’t get sick on me.”

He says this as a joke, not expecting a few beers to make someone sick. He’s trying to remember if Matthew has eaten anything recently. Should’ve made some kind of snack to go along with their card game. Well, they didn’t have alcohol then, so it’s not like this was planned. 

Maybe that’s why it’s hitting him so fast. On top of the lightweight thing. Still. Sickness shouldn’t be an issue. 

Of course, the tipsy nation takes the question seriously. “That’s only happened once.”

“Hah? Really?”

“Yeah, lots of rum involved.”

Prussia chuckles. “I bet that was with Arthur then. He loves that stuff. A hold over from his pirate days, I’m sure.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Canada mumbles, but then the nation is leaning harder against him, resting his head on Prussia’s shoulders. “You’re warm.”

And saying stuff that makes the albino nation blush and feel the atmosphere around him jump up a few degrees. “And you’re...drunk.”

“Probably.”

“Good thing that’s your last one, then.”

“No fair! I can get even cuter if I drink more, you know!”

_The pout is cute enough, my friend._

“I bet you can, but I only have one left and I’m saving it.”

_Because this attack is driving me insane and hitting closer to home than it should be. Damn it all to hell, it’s getting harder to ignore, too._

“You know something?”

“Hm?”

“You’re pretty cute yourself.”

This makes Prussia snap his half-closed eyes open all the way and spin his gaze to Canada completely, the heat moving all the way up his face. “Wha-what? I’m not - why would you -?”

Matthew laughs, holding his beer can in both hands. “So you can call _me_ cute but I can’t say the same to you?”

“No you can’t! Because I’m not!”

“Oh wow, your face gets really red when you’re embarrassed, huh?”

Which does _not_ help the situation, and Prussia can feel the temperature rising by the second. He’s flustered - that much he’ll admit - and he has to put a stop to this line of conversation right now. What the hell is wrong with them both anyway? Enemies calling each other cute? 

The monster inside of him is always in danger of waking up when he’s being attacked, so this is _really_ not a good time to provoke it further. He needs to stop this before it gets out of hand. Needs to be good. He _likes_ Matthew, and he _doesn’t want to hurt him_. 

So… So what to do… 

In a spurt of genius, he snatches the beer can from the other nation’s hands and holds it out away from him. “I think that’s quite enough beer for you, Matthew.”

Matthew is instantly whining and reaching for it. “Nooooo, no fair - I’m not drunk enough yet!”

“Nope, trust me, you’re plenty drunk enough.”

It’s kind of funny watching him pout and whine like a little child. This one little section of his hair is bouncing from the top his head at every little movement, too. Flashing in front of his hazy eyes and big pouty lips. 

Prussia shuts his eyes. Shit, no, he needs to be good.

“Meanie.”

And that makes his eyes open again, of course, with a crack of laughter. “What? Really? That’s what you call me?”

“You’re the one who wanted to see me drunk!” Matthew huffs. “Now you’re taking it away from me!”

“Mmm…” a jolt of passion and pain rushes through him and the monster rises a little to the surface. “All right, fine, if you can get it away from me, then you can have it.”

He smirks as the other nation reaches across him. Laughs as it’s futile. Watches the eyes jump into excitement and then dim into disappointment. Then there’s the flash of determination as he tries again and again to reach for the beer can.

Prussia is having way too much fun teasing his drunk prisoner, and he knows it. It’s a little light game, though. Harmless. Doesn’t have to lead anywhere. And it’s cute. No, _adorable_. 

Until Matthew literally climbs into his lap in his attempt to grab the beer can. Prussia freezes. The can goes to the winner - Canada - who proceeds to turn around, with his back to Prussia, and drink down the rest of it as fast as he can manage. Like he’s afraid it’s going to get stolen away from him again.

Meanwhile, Gilbert is doing is best to push the monster down. He wants more. There’s a cute - actually, _hot_ \- man in his lap and he wants _so much more_. But thankfully there’s no more pain from the bombings and he can set his hands down on the ground - his own silent promise to be good. 

Though his breath catches and his heart is speeding up and it’s getting dizzy in this enclosed space. The candlelight is somewhat romantic lighting on its own, even if that wasn’t the intent originally. But the way it’s reflecting the other nation’s hair and skin, the way the long sleeved dress shirt is roll back from Canada’s wrists makes Prussia want to kiss those arms, those hands, those pulse points. All the pulse points.

Shit, this is hard.

“ _Scheiße_ ,” he breathes. 

“Isn’t that some kind of curse?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, still trying to get his breaths to come more normally, and clearing his throat to get his voice to be more normal too while he’s at it. “You know, I’m not sure why you were worried about showing me your drunk side.”

In response, Canada literally shifts around on his lap, “I think you’re figuring it out.”

“H-hah?” Oh, his face is feeling the heat again. _Everything_ is feeling the heat again. His face and _elsewhere_. “You’re doing that on purpose. Conniving little -”

“You know, it gets really lonely where I’m from. You guys have so many people around you and back at home, all I have is my brother.”

“Oh you’re lonely?” He bites the inside of his cheek, feeling his self control leaving, but wanting it not to. This is hard and Matthew is making it _harder_. In more ways than one right now. “Are you trying to ask me for something?”

“Maybe,” Canada turns and gives a sly smirk over his shoulder. “Would you do that though? Take advantage of a drunken prisoner?”

Blue-violet eyes flick down and Prussia’s eyes follow, finding that his own hands have wandered up to Matthew’s waist quite without his permission. He clings instead of letting go. Clings because allowing them to move any further would be _bad_. So he’s just going to stay here and keep talking. 

_Take advantage of a drunk prisoner_. His monster screams yes. So long as he has control, though, he can hold it back. So long as there’s no more pain on his country he can keep control. There’s no telling what will happen if another bomb hits somewhere important to him, though. He’ll get angry and then -

And then -

“I - I did tell warn you about trusting me, didn’t I?”

“Hmm, yeah, you did, so it’ll be my fault if something happens, won’t it?”

He groans. “Don’t say that. You’re making it harder to resist.”

Hands touch his, feeling like fire running up his veins, but they move his own hands to the side and he breathes in relief. Only for Matthew to change position. To stay _on his lap_ but now facing him. He’s so close. They’re so close.

He breathes and Matthew breathes with him. His eyes blink and Matthew’s eyes respond slowly. His throat gulps and Matthew swallows something on his own, the adam's apple bobbing in his neck. Prussia’s hands move again without permission.

Touching up his waist, up his side.

“Come on, Gilbert,” Matthew whispers, leaning in closer. “I’m not _too_ far gone.”

He shuts his eyes. He has to stop this. Has to put an end to it now. His words are in his mind. A whisper on his lips. He’s not speaking for Matthew or to him. He’s speaking to his monster. Speaking to the demon inside demanding more. “I’m not going to - you’re making it really hard to not - I have to resist.”

A hand touches his cheek and he opens his eyes. “What if I don’t want you to resist? What if I want you to kiss me? What if I want _you_ to be the _first_ and _only_ person to kiss me?”

“ _Scheiße_ ,” he breathes, again, then gulps and feels his control slipping away from him. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know I know! Terrible cliffhanger! Don't worry! I'm working on the next chapter right now! So I swear I'm doing everything I can to make it a short wait this time! I just - let's say I have the dialogue mostly written out and I have to figure out where to cut and paste and add things and subtract things and I just HAVE to do it HERE okay? Trust me on this. 
> 
> Love you all. See you in the next update (SOON AS I CAN I PROMISE!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: Since this is getting more popular than I expected - almost to 100 kudos wow - I want to remind everyone of what I said in the author notes in the first chapter. "Concentration camps will be a thing that we see at some point" You have been warned and I want you to take it seriously, okay? Okay. 
> 
> (I say this cause this one kinda problematic scene is going to show up in two chapters ish so I want you to be prepared ALL RIGHT)

6

His control slips.

The world around them fades into a hazy distance, like the smudge of raindrops hitting an oil painting. All of it melts until there is only Matthew. Matthew's eyes, Matthew's lips, Matthew's tongue. He feels the slightest spark as their lips brush, a small touch of their country connections trying to bring their people together, a useless tingle that fades as soon as it is born.

But no matter. Gilbert continues into the feeling. He sets his hand at the back of Matthew's head, not wanting to lose this moment, demanding they not break away now that they've connected. From the way Matthew’s hands grip on his shoulders, he assumes the other nation feels the same way.

Heat builds around him,  _ in _ him, and his kissing gets more desperate, struggling to find the more that he craves. Matthew responds in kind, the taste of alcohol only part of the addiction that keeps them going. When they do eventually break apart, Gilbert is breathing heavy and watching Matthew with lidded, hazy eyes. 

Everything around him is a blur. He can only see Matthew gasping for breath. His chest heaves, sweat slipping from behind his ear, down his neck. Gilbert reaches out and starts undoing buttons on the other nation’s shirt, thinking to relieve some of the heat for him. God knows, he needs some relief of his own.

“You’re -” Matthew gasps and Gilbert flicks his eyes back up to the blue-violet gaze. “You’re a really good kisser.”

Gilbert smirks. “Damn right. I’m awesome.”

Not wanting to talk through such an emotionally charged moment, not wanting to think, he goes back to kissing. There’s a buzz against his lips that’s from more than the country twinge, from more than any alcohol effect. He has to admit, if only silently, that Matthew is a pretty good kisser, too. At least for someone who’s new at this.

Hands roam and he feels the edges of Matthew’s spine. The slight poke of his ribs against his shirt is a reminder that none of them are in the best of conditions thanks to war time and they shouldn’t really be doing this right here and now. He feels the other man shiver and gasp for breath before connecting their lips once more in a fervor, forgetting all the worries and warnings. He wants more and he’s going to get it. 

The monster is free and it’s hungry.

A splash of sudden pain tingles down his spine and he has to pull away from the kiss with a gasp. It's gone as quickly as it came so he returns to his current focus. Licking his lips, Gilbert moves to kiss at Matthew’s neck, deciding to give those moist lips of his a bit of a break. 

After a moment of playful teasing, Matthew shudders and moans ever so slightly. It's enough to feed Gilbert's inner monster, so he keeps going. His hands climb further down Matthew's back, while he kisses and nibbles above. 

Eventually, he reaches his destination and sneaks his hands under Matthew's shirt. He runs his fingers over mostly smooth skin, finding it strange that it's harder to find a scar or two than usual.

Wait...usual? 

Before his thought can fully process, pain explodes into being. His chest is on fire. He feels like his eyeballs are being stabbed. And his head throbs as the sound of bombs dropping outside crashes through everything else.

He hisses and leans back, hitting his head against the wall of the bunker. Suddenly, his world is no longer only Matthew. He's Prussia again. Reminded of his country connection as someone raids the parts of Berlin he feels most attached to. 

Maybe he screams. Maybe he chokes it back and covers it with a cough. A cough that reveals blood on his hand when he recovers enough to stare at his palm. 

"Fuck," he growls. "What a way to force an interruption."

Matthew slides back until he’s no longer sitting on him and winces. “Sorry.”

“Shit,” Prussia curses again as another wave hits, smaller than that last one. “I better not have lost my house.”

“Is there - mapleleaf - is there anything I can do to help?”

Another cough, another curse, and Prussia shakes his head. Whatever buzz he had is now gone to the wind, and staring at Canada as best he can shows the other nation in much the same predicament. Nothing like an air raid attack actually hitting hard to make one sober. 

“Damn,” he growls. “Not awesome to have this happen in front of you.”

Canada shrugs, “It happens, and I won’t tell anyone as long as you don’t.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why would I tell anyone?”

The blush is all the answer he really needs, but Canada turns his head and mumbles anyway. “I kind of acted out there.”

Prussia wants to laugh.  _ That’s _ what he’s worried about? Arthur has him sheltered for real, then. So many other nations around Europe have seen so much worse. It’s kind of cute to see Canada so embarrassed by so small a thing. 

He has to smirk, and a light bark of a laugh escapes through another weak cough. “You’re a,” he pauses, having to search for the right words, and eventually settling on, “very fun drunk.”

“N-not really. It’s more annoying than anything else.”

Prussia leans back against the wall and forces his grimace to flip into a smile. “Sorry, I almost did take advantage of you.”

Canada shakes his head. “I was begging for it.”

He grunts. He’s never met someone so willing to lay blame on themselves for such situations. Did Matthew forget who gave him the beer in the first place? Or is he choosing to ignore that part?

“I think you’re too nice,” he says with a groan. “Lizzy would have smacked me by now.”

“Lizzy?”

“Ah, right,” he waves his hand in the air, only to rest it on his chest where the pain still resides. “Elizaveta. Hungary.”

“Oh,” Matthew says. “I haven’t gotten to meet her yet.”

The pain isn’t going away. The initial attack is over, sure, but the lingering throbbing is going to get annoying really soon. So he grits his teeth and shuts his eyes. Rubbing his chest, grateful that he’s wearing something casual and not his uniform, he lets his mind take a quick tour of memories.

Hungary will always be one of those nations that can make him step through nostalgia just when she walks in the room. He misses their antics in childhood. Hell, he even misses when she was under Austria and he would sneak through territory to play pranks on natives with her (Or Austria himself when she would allow it). Their relationship now is too weak compared to then. And he’s really only got himself to blame.

“She’s fun,” he says eventually. “Was better when she was younger, but you know how it is. History changes things.”

“Mm,” Canada hums in quiet agreement. “You have history with a lot of other nations, don’t you?”

“Of course. Europe is the center of the world after all.”

He tries to make this sound teasing, since he knows Canada is one of the nations across the ocean. And besides, Japan is part of the Axis so he  _ knows _ there’s more to the world out there. It just  _ feels _ like the center because there’s so many nations all clustered together over here. It doesn’t take long at all to visit each other. 

Or invade.

“America and I are pretty much on our own back home.”

Prussia grunts and waves his hand. “You keep saying that, but you know part of it is because Arthur makes sure to shelter you both.”

“I guess.”

The conversation dies again. They sit in silence as the sound of airplanes and bombs crashing move into the distance. Canada moves across the bunker and sits against the wall on the other side. So much for being all cute next to him. Now there’s an awkward distance and things that aren’t being said. 

He sighs, groans, tries to focus on the attack. Shouldn’t be much longer. He’s dealt with these before. Sometimes they like to run multiple passes. Sometimes the fighters get out and chase them away. They have more air support at this stage, less of it being spent on the blitz in Britain. So now, hopefully, there won’t be so much damage coming at him all in one night.

Rubbing his chest, Gilbert grimaces. He can only imagine what Arthur has been put through. In fact, he doesn’t  _ want _ to imagine. He does his best to keep those thoughts far from his mind. He’s an enemy now, not a friend. Once an ally, now an enemy. That’s how history works, isn’t it? Never consistent. 

And yet far more consistent than it should be.

With another groan, he decides to speak into the candlelit darkness. “I hope that was the worst of it. Wherever West is, I wouldn’t want him dealing with this too.”

Canada shifts from his position on the other side of the small bunker. It’s small enough that they could probably stretch out their legs and touch each other. Not that he would want to do such a thing.

“Are you sure I can’t help you with anything?” Canada asks. “I know it’s not a good feeling.”

“It’s war,” Prussia snaps. “This is what your side has been doing to us this whole time so why is it different now that you see me?”

Matthew flinches back. “Sorry. You’re right. But I just can’t see it as your fault anymore.”

“That’s not a very good mindset,” Gilbert growls because there’s  _ still _ fucking pain in his chest on top of the throbbing headache. “We’re enemies. It’s like you’re forgetting that.”

“Maybe I am,” Matthew huffs. “Maybe I just don’t like being a nation.”

Gilbert feels his eyes widen. His breath leaves him for a moment. His heart skips a beat. He’s heard such words before, and he does not like the idea of hearing them from this cute nation from across the sea. 

“What?”

“Well that’s out there now.”

“No, wait,” he breathes, trying to find words. “Why?”

“It just sucks,” Canada says. “I don’t like being controlled by my people, being told how I should feel about others. That kind of thing.”

_ Oh, yeah, definitely familiar. Stop that. _

“I guess I can understand, but…”

“And living forever is the  _ worst _ ,” Canada continues, pulling his legs up so he can curl up into himself as much as possible. “There’s tons of humans I’ve liked that I’ve had to watch grow old and die without me.”

Prussia flinches back. His mind races back to a time when everything was beautiful and glory and honor were important and this country was growing and kicking ass. To when he made a name for himself. To when his favorite human ever came into his life…

...and then left it far too quickly.

_ Fritz _ .

“Okay, yeah, I definitely understand you there, but…” he sighs. “Are you not scared of death?”

Canada shrugs. “I mean, everyone is, and I’m not so sure our case is any different. We live for such a long time that it feels like we’re immortal and that we’ll live forever, but you know we’ll all disappear one day like Rome. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Mmf.” A little too close to hitting his worst fears there. “You sound more chill about it than anyone else I’ve come across.”

Matthew finally looks up and meets his gaze. “Huh? Really?”

“Well there was one other I know of who wasn’t so worried about losing immortality, but that just left me without a friend.” He stares at his lap, breaking the unintentional staring contest as he winces at his memories and fights back those terrible emotions. “God, what a stupidly depressing topic.”

“Sorry,” Matthew mutters. “Didn’t mean to do that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Prussia says as he forces himself to his feet, putting his trembling hands in his pockets and wishing for his heart to calm down  _ and for this fucking pain to go away _ . “I think the bombardment is over now anyway.”

Canada follows his lead and stands up, actually taking the step or two needed to close the distance. “You’re seriously not going to tell anyone about how I acted, are you?”

Well, that’s one way to change a subject. He would hug the other nation if it weren't so awkward now. Prisoner or not, he  _ really _ likes this guy. After all, they almost went too far down here. That may not happen again, but it’s for the best anyway. Doesn’t matter how many weeks it’s been since they met. Still a little fast if he wants to pursue anything real.

“I won’t,” he says with a playful wink. “Francis, Toni, and I are pretty good at keeping drunk secrets.”

Canada blinks at him. “Toni?”

“Spain.”

“Oh. You know, I didn’t expect you to use human names so much.”

Prussia shrugs as he moves around the bunker. He takes the last beer and places it back in the icebox. No telling when he’ll need it, even if one won’t be enough for the buzz he craves when he’s down here. After that, it’s a simple matter of putting out the candle and working his way back above ground.

With Canada trailing behind him, of course.

“Well, as much as I like to remind people that I’m Prussia,” he grins and turns to offer a hand and help Canada to finish climbing out, “I was the Teutonic Knights first, and a lot of other countries haven’t always gone by the same country name. So human names sort of feel more real at this point, even if we weren’t born with them. Besides, it’s more personal, too.”

“I...guess that makes sense.”

Keeping his grin, Gilbert stands in place and leans in close. “That’s why I like that I got your human name from you now, too.”

Matthew blushes and it’s the cutest thing ever. So he reaches out to try to touch the man’s cheek, to feel that heat. Instead of allowing it, Matthew steps back and clears his throat, trying to hide his face by staring down at his feet.

“We should, uh, go back inside.”

With a frown, Gilbert nods and turns to the house. “Right. You are my prisoner after all.”

Matthew doesn’t say anymore, just nods his head meekly. Something else in his chest hurts after all that, but he ignores it. Best to get back inside anyway. Nice to see his house still standing and all, but he’ll be surprised if there’s no damage. 

After all, things did hit a little too close to home there.

~!~

Canada follows Prussia around the house in silence. Embarrassment clouds his every thought. He can’t stop thinking about the albino nation - and the man behind the nation. The heat still fills him alongside the image of those red eyes glowing in the candlelight, of the darker, hazier color as they dropped further into lust. Of those hands touching him. Of that kiss…

Shaking his head, he tries to banish the thoughts and focus. He’s a prisoner. How many times does he have to remind himself of the fact? Prussia has even warned him multiple times. There’s a monster lurking underneath the pale skin and  _ gorgeous _ red-eyed gaze. He’s pretty sure he almost unleashed the full thing, even without anger propelling it forward, too.

A part of him wants to unleash it now. An insane part. He knows some countries are not to be trifled with when their inner monsters come unhinged. He’s seen America, most recently after the Pearl Harbor attacks, but in other instances as well. They’re all a little different, and Canada is good at hiding his own from the rest of the world, but…

But he wants to see what’s underneath Prussia. It’s not just that, either. He wants to know more. He wants to know _ everything _ about this nation. Like a traveler trapped in a desert searching for an oasis of information, he  _ needs _ to know. 

Maybe that’s why he’s pushing Gilbert away, not allowing the other to touch him or get too close. The need to see more is too strong. The need to push further is something that should have faded with his tipsy-somewhat-drunk urges. But it hasn’t. And he’s frightened because of it.

So he follows Prussia into the man’s kitchen without saying a word, hangs back in the doorway and watches through hazy eyes of his own as the other nation takes pills and mumbles to himself. Those whispered nothings are in German and too quiet for Matthew to decipher, no matter how much his curiosity begs him to figure it out. 

Mapleleaf, he’s lost his mind.

Thoughts and musings shatter as Prussia springs forward suddenly, muttering something about the guards outside. He rushes past Canada, intent on the front door. For his part, Canada continues to hang back, though he too feels the splash of worry cross through him. He doesn’t really care what side they’re on, he’s always going to dread the idea of losing humans, even if Prussia had been right. This is war. That’s the whole point. Why should he care more openly now that he’s right in the thick of seeing what happens? 

Angry German yelling fills the house and Canada jerks his head up in time to see one of the guards outside pointing a gun at Prussia. His eyes widen. That’s not supposed to happen. They’re his people. They shouldn’t be treating him like that. How could they get away with acting like -

Prussia backs up and brings his hands up all defensively. There’s more discussion between them. Canada can pick up words about “staying inside” and “don’t trust you” but he’s stretched to his limit on understanding a language he isn’t proficient in. What he  _ does _ understand is how tense the albino nation has become under the glares of his own  _ people _ . 

The guards bark something that sounds like an order, shut the door, and then Gilbert is free to scream his frustration into the air. He even goes so far as to punch the door, making Matthew flinch back a few steps. Licking his lips, he tries to think of what he can say in this situation, wondering what the hell is wrong with these people to even go so far. Wouldn’t they want someone to help them organize things outside after an attack? Isn’t Prussia one of their officers? 

Words fail him. What  _ can _ he say to all that? Watching Prussia pace makes him nervous because the other nation is clearly upset by the whole interaction, but Canada can’t make himself leave the room. He wants to help. Somehow.

“They, uh,” he starts, freezes when the man stops pacing and looks up at him with those blood red eyes of his. Clearing his throat, he begins again. “They really are keeping you prisoner here, too, aren’t they?”

“It’s fucking stupid! I’m on their side!” Gilbert rants, shoving his hand to his chest. “I’m literally a part of their nation, and still they think I’m too lazy to help or that I’m going to betray them so they’d rather lock me up in my own house where I can’t even get the chance to be productive! Which means they don’t have to confront the ills of their own ideology and see how it’s destroying them from within!” 

Canada shuts his eyes and takes a breath before handing out his suggestion. “You could always try talking with your brother next chance you get. You know, try to convince him to quit the war.”

Prussia’s eyes narrow. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not quitting shit and there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to convince him of anything. That’s not an option. At all.”

“But!” He frowns, worries his lip. “But you like what he’s doing about as much as I do - which is to say, not at all, right?”

The glare sent his way makes him tense. “I can’t convince him of  _ anything _ right now, even if I wanted to - which I don’t.”

“S-sorry. Just trying to help.”

“Well don’t.”

With that last word, Prussia spins on his heel and practically stomps out of the entryway. Canada watches him in pitying silence for a few moments, then follows after. He’s not sure what else he can do, but he wants to do something or say something that’ll make the other nation feel better. Remembering what Gilbert said about hating pity, though, it’s hard to come up with anything to say that wouldn’t be obvious. 

So he keeps his mouth shut and observes. Like he always does. 

So it is in silence that they enter the den again, and Canada winces almost in time with Prussia at the sight. Most of the windows have been blown out, filling the floor with broken glass. The radio is still trying to play music, but it’s also on the floor tipped over on its side. The cards from their games are scattered in every imaginable direction, and the table they were playing on has moved a good meter or so away from the window. 

Bombs must have hit  _ real _ close, then. He can only imagine what it looks like outside. They’re lucky to still have a house to stand in considering all this. Mapleleaf, seeing the destruction wrecked on the enemy nation makes his emotions swing on an internal pendulum. At least now that he’s grown rather fond of one of the nations they’re attacking.

When Prussia bends down to pick up the glass shards, Canada studies him for a moment, then quickly hops down to help. Prisoner or not, he can’t help but be nice in this kind of situation. After all he’s learned about Prussia in the past weeks, he sort of regrets standing in to fight this war. 

But then, it’s not like he has much of a choice. He has to remind himself of what England looked like after the German blitz over there. How much damage Germany (and Prussia) have done to France. This is what happens in war. It shouldn’t be different now that he sees what it’s doing to his enemy, but since he’s  _ here _ and he’s  _ stuck _ he might as well help, right?

Gilbert mumbles angrily to himself as they clean, and Matthew hears every word. “Can’t even feel glad that those guards are okay. Can’t go out and help my people through this like normal. Fucking stupid. Fucking assholes. Pisses me off. West isn’t going to do anything. He’s trapped in the dumbass mindset and off fighting who knows where while I’m stuck in my own house unable to retaliate. Fucking bullshit.”

Canada winces but doesn’t say anything in response. Prussia isn’t talking to him so there’s no need to say anything more. He’s already said all he wants to say anyway. Best to let Gilbert rant to himself for a while and vent it all out. 

They continue to clean up until everything is back to a semblance of normal. The windows are still broken and the sounds from outside make Canada wish he could escape and help out there, but there’s nothing he can do except to aid Prussia inside. Help where he can, right? Oh, if only there were something he could say to break the current silence. It’s so awkward it’s painful right now.

Eventually Canada stands to the side and Prussia slumps on the sofa, leaning against the arm with a large exasperated sigh. “I hate this.”

“Yeah, I - I know what you mean.”

“Keh,” Prussia scoffs. “Thanks for helping me clean up, but you still might want to watch where you step.”

“Of course.” Silence stalks and Canada shuffles from side to side. “Should I go back to the room?”

“I don’t care.”

The albino nation grumbles to himself, clearly staring off into the distance, trapped in thoughts. So Matthew hangs around for a moment and watches him. As awkward as it all is now, he still likes being in the other man’s presence. Still likes seeing that wild white hair free from his uniform hat, those red eyes hazy and glowing like the embers of a fire. 

Maybe he’s gone insane, liking an enemy so much. Maybe he should back away and put up a wall and never think about him again. Maybe he should -

Gilbert coughs, grimaces, puts a hand to his chest and then looks down and curses. “Shit.”

Eyes widening at the blood staining the casual button down shirt, Matthew takes a few steps closer to the albino. “Oh! Uhm - here let me help you. Do you have a first aid kit somewhere around here?”

“Uh, yeah, in the bathroom,” Gilbert says, red eyes a little wide themselves as he blinks over him. “Not sure if there’s much left.”

“Bathroom, right.” Canada turns to head down the hallway, then pauses and glances back. “Where’s that?”

Gilbert waves a hand. “Down the hallway on the right.”

When Canada finds the first aid kit and returns, he sits down beside Gilbert on the sofa and rummages through the options he has for bandages and gauze. Prussia hadn’t been exaggerated when he mentioned not being sure how much was left. Clearly this isn’t the first time the other nation has needed treatment for wounds. 

With a slight blush, he murmurs, “You should probably take off your shirt.”

“Tch,” Gilbert grunts, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding his arms out of the sleeves, all while Canada tries not to stare and blush too obviously. “Why are you helping me?”

“Huh?” The words come to him slowly as he quickly becomes focused on cleaning the welts and slash wounds. It’s so strange how attacks on the physical nation and people can harm them like this, but he supposes of all people, the battle-loving Prussian would be the most used to it. “I don’t know. I just can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Cleaning the wounds is a good excuse not to look at him, but he can see the silvery white eyebrows raise even from the corner of his eye. “You wanted to kiss me back there, too.”

Heat fills his cheeks as words rush from his lips. “I was drunk.”

“Oh. That’s all?”

“Yeah, I get like that when I’m drunk. I find someone I like and -”

He freezes, feels his face warm, and shuts his mouth on the rest of his sentence. Not what he should be saying right now. Not while he’s staring at the pale skin that’s so littered with old scars. Not when he’s trying his best to keep his thoughts tame because otherwise he just feels embarrassed, even if Prussia can’t exactly read his mind.

The man sucks in a hiss of air between his teeth as Canada finishes cleaning and moves to wrap the bandages around him. Words come from the albino, though they’re surprisingly soft. “Find someone you like, huh?”

“I didn’t mean that. It just sort of came out.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well what about you? You kissed me first! You didn’t have to do that and - and you weren’t even drunk!”

“Kinda hard to hold back when someone cute is literally throwing themselves on you.”

“C-cute? So you think I’m cute?”

“Yeah,” Prussia says in a darker, softer voice, setting a hand over one of Canada’s. “You’re adorable.”

“I, but I -” Successfully flustered beyond belief, Canada finishes with the bandage wrapping and pulls his hand away, setting it in his lap and keeping his eyes from looking at Prussia as well. “But I’m supposed to be your enemy.”

To his surprise, Prussia merely shrugs and sits back. “Sure,  _ now _ , but that can change.”

“Huh?”

“You know wars don’t last forever, and our people won’t always be against each other. Hell, I’ve allied with Russia before and I  _ hate _ that guy.”

“Heh.” 

His heart is racing, pounding in his chest. Is Prussia trying to come on to him? This is bad. They don’t need to be doing this. They’re on opposite sides. This isn’t the time. He’s not supposed to like an enemy this much. Alfred will never let him hear the end of it.

Not to mention what Arthur will think. 

Releasing a lengthy sigh, Prussia grumbles into the silence. “Well, anyway, I have a bunch of work to do now, so you’d better head back up to my room.”

Glancing up, Canada catches the red eyes, not sure how to explain the ache in his heart. “Oh. Yeah.”

Gilbert smiles and rubs the bandage on his chest. “Thanks for this.”

Matthew nods and smiles back. “You’re welcome.”

It’s awkward again. Only now he has an opening to leave, so he gets up off the sofa and makes his way to the hall. His thoughts are going everywhere and his heart is beating a million kilometers an hour, but it’s best he leave like this anyway. Back to being a prisoner. Back to his current life trapped in one room.

“Oh, wait!” Gilbert calls, getting Matthew to pause and turn around at the doorway. “You don’t have to stay cooped up in there all the time. Like, if you want to come down for breakfast in the morning, you can.”

There’s a small flush in the albino’s pale cheeks, and Matthew smiles, feeling the warmth rush into his chest. “Okay. I”ll remember that. Good night.”

Gilbert doesn’t exactly respond in kind, but the genuine smile will be one Matthew remembers for some time to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: Since this is getting more popular than I expected - almost to 100 kudos wow - I want to remind everyone of what I said in the author notes in the first chapter. "Concentration camps will be a thing that we see at some point" You have been warned and I want you to take it seriously, okay? Okay. 
> 
> (I say this cause this one kinda problematic scene is going to show up in two chapters ish so I want you to be prepared ALL RIGHT)
> 
> YES I'M PUTTING THE NOTE HERE TOO fdjfkda;fa


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow. This update came fast, didn't it? This chapter could also be called: the chapter of headcanons (okay so it's not that bad but yeah)

7

In the morning, Matthew climbs out of bed and stares at the freshly cleaned clothes on the dresser. Clothes that he distinctly remembers wearing yesterday and tossing on the floor before falling asleep. This isn’t the first time this has happened, either. Gilbert must be sneaking in when he’s dead to the world and snatching his clothes to clean them. They’re always so neatly done, too. Washed, ironed, folded… 

He would never have expected Prussia of all nations to be so particular about clothes. Or such a neat freak in other ways. The albino nation can be so random in his conversations and even some of his antics and mannerisms. Yet his room is always tidy and he even  _ irons _ his prisoner’s clothes.

Makes him feel a little bad for the mess caused downstairs by the close proximity of the bombs yesterday. He wonders if Prussia has already cleaned everything up down there to have it back to the picture perfect normal. He wouldn’t be surprised at this point, though still impressed nonetheless.

Shaking his head, Matthew finishes getting dressed and then stares at the door. Gilbert had invited him down for breakfast. Should he go? Even after all the awkwardness and embarrassment of yesterday, he still wants to be around the other nation. 

_ Guess that’s my answer. _

Without further hesitation, he slips out the door and slides down the stairs to walk around and poke his head into the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway and takes a moment to stare at the scene and smile. Gilbert’s back is to him, standing by the stove cooking something on a skillet, and he’s wearing a light blue button-down with navy slacks. 

When Gilbert turns around, Matthew feels the blush hit because the blue shirt isn’t even buttoned. It’s open and loose, revealing the bandaged chest beneath, as well as that precious scarred pale skin. 

“Oh, uh, good morning,” Matthew manages to say.

Gilbert simply grins. “Guten morgen! You hungry?”

Matthew nods and notes the meat sizzling on Gilbert’s skillet, which he’s holding out in the open instead of over the stove since he turned around. “More sausage?”

Gilbert spins back around to set the pan down and poke at the sausage. “Ja. Probably shouldn’t be using it all so fast ‘cause there’s no telling when we’ll get more meat, but I can’t help it.”

“Remind me to treat you to pancakes if you ever visit me when the war is over.”

“All right, it’s a deal. Pancakes with that maple syrup you love, right?”

“Mmhm,” Canada nods and hums as he finds a seat at the small round kitchen table. “It goes great with sausages, too.”

Prussia glances at him from over his shoulder as he continues cooking. “Does it really?”

“Yeah, I’ve had it a few times like that. You can really put maple syrup on anything, you know.”

“Heh. Sounds like you really love the stuff.”

_ That might be an understatement. _

With a hum, Matthew settles back in the wooden chair and watches Prussia finish cooking. Sausages and eggs and potato chunks that have been mashed almost beyond recognition. Gilbert gets two plates, sets everything up, and then moves over to the table to feed them both, sitting down across from him. 

With Gilbert no longer standing in front of the stove, Matthew notices something else. A little yellow bird hops along the counter like it’s the most normal thing for him to be doing. Matthew blinks a few times, trying to recall if he’s seen a bird around Prussia’s house until now, but he comes up blank.

“Hey, Matthew, are you planning to eat?”

Shaking his head with a slight blush, he mumbles. “Yeah, sorry, I just - is that a bird?”

“Hah?” Fork in hand, Prussia turns around and then laughs as he looks back. “Yeah, that’s Gilbird. He’s been with me for a long time.”

Oh, so Prussia has an immortal animal companion, too, then. Matthew smiles and takes a few bites of food. It’s wonderful cooking, though he does miss his maple syrup, and it would be better with some pancakes on the side. 

“You know, seeing you with an animal makes me miss Kumajiro.”

Prussia grunts. “Who’s that?”

“A baby polar bear,” Matthew says. “He’s been at my side for a long time, too.”

Gilbert almost chokes on his food, hitting his chest to clear his throat and then gasp out. “A polar bear?”

“Yeah,” he says with a blink as he stares at Gilbert’s reaction. “He forgets who I am a lot, but he still stays by me.”

“And he’s been a baby this whole time?” Prussia asks, leaning forward. “Like he’s not going to grow bigger and eat you one of these days?”

Lifting an eyebrow, Matthew shakes his head. “No, of course not.”

Prussia settles back. “If you say so…”

The two of them melt into a comfortable silence as they eat. Breakfast is good, better than a lot of his meals when on the job or on the road during these times. He can’t help but think how wonderful it would be to sit across from Prussia like this every morning.

Of course once the thought crosses his mind, he shakes it off. That’s just crazy talk. No matter what their feelings now, they’re in the middle of a war and there’s no way this powerful European nation would care to cross the ocean just to visit. Or live. Or stay forever. 

Okay, he really needs to think of something else. Now he’s just getting out of hand. 

Thankfully, he gets a nice interruption in the form of the yellow bird flying across to roost in Prussia’s hair. Canada blinks and stares because it’s adorable and unexpected, especially because Prussia acts like nothing’s changed or new or weird about the whole bird-in-his-hair thing. 

In fact, Gilbird will tweet and clean his feathers and Prussia doesn’t do much besides grunt in response. Maybe he can understand the bird. He knows that’s possible because Kumakichi is the same way. No one else can understand the animals except for those that they’re connected to. There’s something heartwarming about Prussia being close to a small chick of all things. And something absolutely adorable in the way he blushes at what Gilbird tweets.

Wait.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Matthew says after setting his utensils down. “What did he say to make you blush?”

“Ah - what -?” Prussia coughs and waves his hand in front of his face as if he could erase the growing redness. “No he - he didn’t say anything - well he did - but nothing worth - ahem -”

“Oh, you can tell me, Gilbert,” Matthew goads. “What did he say?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

“That doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“It -” Gilbert swallows and sets his empty plate to the side, reaching up to cling to the bangs of his hair. “Damn. Look, Gilbird’s always trying to find me a match. Don’t think too much on it.”

“A match? Wha -” 

His words get stuck in his throat and his own face heats in a matching blush. Oh. Suddenly, nothing is more interesting than the plate of food sitting in front of him. He doesn’t even sneak a glance to Prussia or the bird. Mapleleaf. Even his ears are feeling hot now. 

“See? Nothing.” Prussia states.

“Yeah,” Matthew mumbles in agreement. “Nothing.”

Gilbird tweets and Prussia snaps. “You shut up.”

But after that, there’s silence again. Only this time Matthew’s thoughts are in turmoil. He’s no longer blushing, he’s wondering what’s going to happen in the future. The immediate future. He’s reminded of things Arthur and the others had said about Prussia. Blaming him for the whole German aggression. 

Nothing good will happen to Prussia if Canada gets free. Whether someone comes to free him or not, if he finds a way out before the end of the war… He’s finding it hard to finish the last of his food. He knows too much now. He doesn’t want to hurt this man anymore, but it’s a strong tug from his country to finish this war, and he’ll be pushed to give up any information he has to England at the very least. 

It’s strange, but now he doesn’t even want to get free. He  _ likes _ Prussia. If it weren’t clear before, after the way he acted yesterday, he can’t run from it anymore. Though he has to get free at some point. Prussia may be nice, but from everything he’s gathered, Germany won’t be so kind. Especially not if he comes back and his brother has nothing to show after all this time. 

Mapleleaf…

Prussia groans across from him and stands up to wash his plate, grabbing Matthew’s while he’s at it. “You’ve gotten quiet all of a sudden.”

“Sorry,” Matthew mumbles, refusing to face him. “Just...thinking.”

“Thinking huh?” Prussia says as the water from the sink runs. “About what?”

“About you. And me. And what happened yesterday. And...other stuff.”

Gilbert clears his throat. “Y-yeah? You must be glad I don’t have anymore beer to hand you.”

“You could say that,” Matthew mumbles. “I must have been pretty drunk because I actually really liked it and I -”

Red eyes find him from over Prussia’s shoulder and Matthew groans. He looks too cute when he does that. Light in his eyes, sly grin on his face. More hot than cute, and now it’s just making him feel  _ worse _ . 

“Oh? You like my awesomeness that much?”

Dropping his head to the table, Matthew takes a breath and tries to get his words to come out correctly. “I guess what I’m trying to say is...I’m sorry.”

“Hah? Sorry?”

“For everything. I mean,” he drifts off and sighs. “Let’s just say you shouldn’t let me go until the war is over. Unless you’re okay with moving.”

There’s a beat of silence. The sound of dishes clinking together as Prussia slides them back into their positions in the cabinet now that they’re clean. Then Gilbert moves over to hover by the table, which makes Canada lift his head and face him. 

Those red eyes are no longer bright. “What the hell are you on about?”

Matthew meets his gaze, then looks to the side. “I got what I came here for, and if you let me go you’ll only get hurt.”

“What the hell?” Prussia’s growl is soft but audible enough to make Matthew flinch back. “You haven’t gotten anything important. There’s no way.”

“I know where they’re keeping you.”

Another beat of silence and then Prussia slams his hands on the table, making Matthew jolt up in his chair. “You wouldn’t - Ah hell - it doesn’t matter. Not like I’ll still be here if you manage to get free anyway.”

“I know but the bombings over the capital will only get worse,” he says, lifting his gaze. “England is saying that all of this is your fault. They want to end the war by getting rid of you.”

Red eyes widen and Prussia goes quiet. Matthew prays that he’ll think it through. Prays that he’ll understand the danger and the situation is worse than he thinks. It’s more than being trapped here. Matthew is a danger to him. He has to see it. 

But Prussia just scowls. “That’s bullshit. How is any of this my fault? You know that’s not true. So why don’t I let you free and you tell them the actual fucking truth instead of leading them back to me?”

“I - I can’t. There’s no way I can convince them. I don’t have the right kind of power within the Empire to change England’s mind. The only way to change their minds is to actually help us stop it all.” He holds his hand out. “Join us. Join the Allies, Gilbert, and we can stop your brother, Italy, and Japan together.”

He can tell the words aren’t doing what he hoped they would. Prussia isn’t buying it. He’s just getting angrier and angrier. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are heated. And he slaps Matthew’s hand away hard enough to make him feel the sting. 

“Fuck that! I’m not going against my brother!”

“Yeah, I kind of figured you’d say that.”

_ But I want them to see how good you are. I can’t make them see it on my own. I need you to make a move to prove it to them. _

“Why even bother asking?” Prussia shouts. “Let them blame me. Whatever. If it keeps them away from hurting West, then fine. I don’t care.”

Gilbird flies out of the albino’s hair and starts making circles around the nation, tweeting constantly. Prussia scowls and crosses his arms, spinning around to put his back to Canada. They’re nations. Enemies. He wants to save him, but he can’t if he’s going to act like this. 

Prussia walks away, slamming his arm into the edge of the kitchen doorway as he goes out into the hall. Canada jumps to his feet, intending to follow him. But he hears the man scream and punch a wall. And then scream a curse once more. 

This isn’t what he had hoped for when he spilled all that information. He wants Prussia to come to his side. He doesn’t want to fight him anymore. He doesn’t want to be a prisoner trapped in his enemy’s capital, but he doesn’t want to see this man hurt. He’s already been hurt enough from his own nation because of how he looks. 

“I don’t think you understand,” Matthew calls as he rushes after the albino. “If we win this war, they’re going to  _ kill _ you. Not just blame you.”

When he catches up, the red eyes are on him again, and they’re darker than they’ve ever been before, darker in rage no doubt. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“They would,” Canada insists. “England’s boss is already doing what he can to rally support from his people for getting rid of you. You have to come with me. I don’t want -”

“They can’t just kill me!” Prussia snaps. “I’m still a nation. Fuck, even if it’s just as a state under Germany now, and even if West’s boss installed some of his own people into my government to get control, essentially destroying any independence I have -  _ even if we lose this war they can’t just get rid of me!  _ That’s not how it  _ works! _ ” 

Flinching back, Canada finds he can’t keep his mouth shut. “They’re going to try,” he mumbles, then steps forward and pushes harder. “They’re going to try and when we win, I’m sure they’ll find a way to do it! Please listen to me. You have to stop your brother! Even if you don’t go against him, you have to convince him to stop the war! To give up!”

Before he can finish letting out his thoughts, he’s against the wall. And  _ ow _ that hurt. Prussia’s holding him up by his shirt collar and bringing his face close. There’s pain in his back from where the other nation threw him hard against the wall. 

He gulps because those red eyes are worse than he’s seen. He’s reminded of all the times Gilbert ran from the room because he was getting a little worked up. Has he done it? Has he pushed him into the rageful monster he’s been warned about? 

Oh, mapleleaf, maybe he pushed too far after all.

“Shut up,” Prussia says slowly with force. “Now.”

“I’m just trying to help you!” Canada continues, even as his heart pounds and his breathing gets harder to control. “I don’t want to see you disappear!”

In a flash, Prussia punches the wall next to Canada’s head, making him wince. “I said.  _ Shut up. _ ”

His breath leaves him, caught in his throat, and he closes his mouth as told. He nods, feeling tears welling up in his eyes because this is too much. Can’t this stubborn jerk see he’s trying to do what’s best? Can’t he see this is the best option? Why can’t he just do what Canada wants him to so they can live happily and forget this whole war business? 

Why is this so hard?

“Good,” Prussia says with a slow smirk. “No more talk of that shit.”

“R-right,” Canada stutters. “Sorry.”

A pale hand falls on his face, fingers tracing his lips. It’s so intimate. But the look in Prussia’s eyes is so different from the moment when they had kissed in the bunker. Everything about this is so different. His heart is pounding. His chest hurts. 

“Wha-what are you doing?”

The smirk is lopsided. It looks sort of creepy and makes him shiver down to his feet. “Hm. I had an idea of ways to keep you quiet, but I guess that’s not really necessary anymore.”

A squeak escapes from Canada’s lips. “You wouldn’t.”

There’s no real response from Prussia, just the continual smirk. This is too much. He didn’t expect this kind of reaction. So the others were right about Prussia being a monster on a leash. It’s no wonder he doesn’t want to quit this war. Maybe it’s an internal battle, maybe not, but this is  _ too much _ . 

_ No _ .

He can’t fall into that trap. Prussia has been avoiding this for so long, leaving him alone whenever he gets too angry because he knows what happens. It’s almost like it’s uncontrollable to an extent. Canada hasn’t ever snapped to such a degree. Not for whatever Prussia is hinting at now. 

Mapleleaf, what is he going to do?

And then Prussia steps back and pulls away, his hand clenched into a tight fist at his side. Gilbird comes back into the picture and rests on the albino’s shoulder, chirping in trills. Canada stares in shock and then lets out a breath in relief.

“I knew it.”

“Matthew,” Gilbert says. “ _ Don’t _ piss me off again.”

“Right. I gathered that much.”

Gilbert shakes his head and walks away, heading toward the den. “This is why I kept leaving the room after you got me angry. Sorry you had to see that up close.”

Matthew shakes his head and follows after him. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Whatever.”

Canada uses the time spent walking to catch his breath and get his pounding heart under control. His heart still aches, though for a different reason. He really wishes he could get through to Prussia. He wishes they could hatch an escape plan together and leave this all behind. 

But it isn’t that simple. And it hurts knowing there’s nothing he can do to stop history from turning. What will be, will be. That’s all there is to it, and he has to accept that and only work to change what he can. 

Once they’re in the den, he hovers in the doorway for a bit as he looks over at the mostly clean room. Much better from the other day. The windows are even boarded up now. Prussia walks over to the television set and plays with the rabbit ears, only to curse and give up after a few failed attempts. Guess they still can’t get a signal. 

So they both retreat to the sofa, with Prussia leaning against one arm and Canada sitting awkwardly on the other side. The distance between them is rough, but it’s probably for the better now. After what happened back there. 

“You probably hate me now, don’t you,” Canada says into the silence.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Really?” Canada perks up. “Then you know I was only trying to help.”

Prussia grunts. “Whatever. Weren’t you supposed to drop the whole topic?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I just really like you so -”

This gets the albino nation to face him with a frown. “There it is again. You ‘really like’ me, huh?”

“Oh, I - mapleleaf,” Canada sighs and shuts his eyes to avoid facing the source of new embarrassment. “Yeah. I feel like you’re a lot nicer than what people say and you don’t deserve what’s been happening to you.”

“Yeah?”

He expects more of a response, but Prussia doesn’t give him anything. The other nation runs a hand through his hair and stares off at the boarded window. Nothing. 

“Sorry.”

Gilbert glances over at him. “Stop apologizing.”

“Can’t help it,” Matthew admits. “I made things awkward again.”

Gilbert shakes his head. “No, I’m just not sure how to respond. Not exactly used to people liking me these days, even if I am the Awesome Prussia and everyone should fall in line to admit their love for me.”

The bravado feels forced, and Gilbert’s sigh after the fact makes it all the more so. Matthew frowns and shuffles on the sofa cushion, wishing there was something he could do or say to make the depression in the room drift away. 

But he’s never been very good at lighting up rooms. Not like his brother. 

“Well,” Matthew starts, licking his lips as he thinks of what to say and how to phrase it. “Like I said before, you’re a lot nicer than people give you credit for.”

Prussia grunts. “I’m not nice.”

“Sure you are. There’s a lot of things you could be doing with me, but you’re not. And even when I didn’t want to tell you why I was here, you didn’t press it.”

Gilbert tenses and Matthew wonders if pointing this out is somehow the wrong thing to say. “That’s not - I’m not - damn it.”

“See, you’re nice,” Matthew says with a smile. “And I really want to be your friend.”

This gets him more of a reaction. Gilbert practically spins on the couch to stare at him with wide eyes. Disbelief clouds his face more than anything else. Which is still sad and depressive, but better than the closed-off behind-a-wall manner he’d been exhibiting before.

“You do?”

“Mmhm,” Matthew nods. “You know there was a time when some of your people came over to my place. I’m honestly surprised we didn’t meet back then.”

“There - what really?” Gilbert’s confusion in this instance is kind of cute, but Matthew just smiles and nods. “Huh. I guess I’m not good at paying attention to them if they leave the country.”

“You should. You could meet a lot more people that way.”

“Meh. Too busy helping West to care nowadays,” he says with a huff, crossing his arms. “Or I was.”

“Right.”

There’s silence again, but this time it’s a little more comfortable. Canada decides to take a breath and make a choice to move in closer. He stands up and sits right next to Gilbert. Which gets the albino to raise an eyebrow but otherwise not say anything. 

That’s all right, though. He’s got the man’s attention. Even if it still seems like Prussia is focused more inward than he’s been the entire time he’s known the man. 

“Heh,” Gilbert grunts. “Sorry there’s nothing to do.”

“It’s okay,” Matthew shrugs. “I like talking to you.”

“Mm,” Gilbert hums. “So do you kiss any of your other friends?”

Heat rises up his neck and Matthew turns away. “Uhm. Kind of hard when you don’t really have any other friends.”

“So essentially,” Gilbert says, dropping a hand to one of Matthew’s legs, “you don’t have a problem kissing friends.”

He can’t tear his eyes from the pale hand on his leg. He likes the touch so he doesn’t want to shove him off, but he’s a little wary of where that hand could move. So he watches it like a panicked hawk and licks his lips as he tries to keep his mouth from drying out. 

“Uh, I guess not. I don’t know really.”

“Hm. Francis and Toni and I mess around all the time, especially when we get drunk.” Prussia laughs and Canada likes the sound so much he leans in closer without really thinking, looking up at the brightness splashing through his eyes. “Ah, too bad all the fun times stop when war happens.”

“That happens to everyone.”

“You’d be surprised,” Prussia says, pulling his hand away and stretching his arms above his head. “If people are willing you can get up to a lot of fun with your allies. But then, Arthur probably sheltered you from those traditions.”

“Huh?” Canada blinks up at him. “What traditions?”

Prussia grins at him and crosses his arms in front of his bandaged chest. “Yep. You’ve definitely been sheltered. Good on Arthur, honestly.”

“Sheltered from what?”

“Did you know…” Gilbert starts then shakes his head and starts again. “Did you know that the more intimate we get with another nation, the more likely it is for our people to follow suit? So sometimes for alliances and treaties over here, we like to have a bit of ‘fun.’”

_ What? _

Feeling his eyes widen, Canada pulls back away from Prussia, dropping his hands into his lap. He toys with the fabric of his khaki pants and chews on his bottom lip. He can’t believe the other nations could be so  _ promiscuous _ . No wonder England never mentioned anything to that effect. He probably wanted things to change.

Matthew’s face heats up as he shakes away the images of what other nations have been doing for all these years. Then he wonders what it takes to make it work. He’s seen so much happen because of how the people affect  _ them _ but if it happens the other way around…

“Does it really work that way?”

“Yep,” Prussia nods. “We’ve been doing it for centuries.”

“Okay then,” he says, then takes a breath and lets it out slowly before working up the nerve to ask the real questions. “What if two enemy nations did it?”

Gilbert goes quiet and Matthew looks up at him to catch those eyes staring at him above a hard line of a frown. “As far as I know,” he says eventually, “that doesn’t happen voluntarily so it’s a completely different circumstance.”

_ Not good enough. _

“Hypothetically speaking,” Matthew insists. “What if it did?”

Gilbert hums and looks up at the ceiling, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know. Might cause issues of loyalty in the people. Make them question why they’re fighting.”

“Right,” Matthew mumbles, feeling his shoulders sag as he deflates. “I suppose hoping for them to find peace that way was too much.”

“What? Were you going to suggest we fuck for peace?” Gilbert chuckles, then clicks his tongue between his teeth. “I feel like I’d be stirring up problems in Arthur’s empire if I let you try that. He kept you sheltered for a reason. I can respect that.”

“Yeah I know. It was just a stray thought.”

_ Can we find another topic now and forget this one? It’s awkward enough as it is… _

“Damn, I really am acting all soft,” Prussia murmurs, running a hand through his silvery white hair again. “I treated Austria and Lizzy worse and they’re allies.”

Frowning, Canada looks at him again. “Why though? Why treat me differently?”

At this, Prussia merely sighs and shakes his head. “I wish I knew.”

The conversation dies again and Matthew sits back on the couch, lost in his thoughts. Did he really just lead into the idea of getting intimate with Prussia for the sake of ending the war? Even if it were something that could happen, it probably wouldn’t work if it was just them. It might make him leave the war, and it might cause internal strife in Germany, but…

It wouldn’t suddenly make everything right.

Why does he care so much anyway? Why does he like this guy so much? Why? 

_ I wish I knew, too, Gil. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prussia makes a phone call. France and England worry about Canada, while Italy worries over Germany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for another super quick update? I'm doing good. (Truth is, I found that I can successfully write on my phone, though it's more prone to autocorrect weirdness. I've done my best to check for those moments so hopefully got them all, or at least most of them hah)
> 
> So it'll be next chapter that has the camp stuff, fyi. I decided to fit in a couple of characters we haven't seen before, as well as using different point of views. Because. Reasons.

8

The day wears on and Prussia sits on his couch, thinking. Gilbird reminds him when lunch time hits and he gets up to cook something simple for him and Canada. They have more conversation over lunch, but it’s subdued. Prussia simply can’t engage like usual because there’s more pressing matters on his mind. 

Canada returns to the upstairs room to read or whatever he does up there, and once more, Prussia sits on his couch and thinks. What to do about Canada? What to do about the fact that he’s falling for the man who is supposed to be a prisoner? He wants to ignore the warnings and find a way to get Matthew home. Once West returns and Prussia has nothing to show him, he’s pretty sure his brother will take Matthew himself and work through interrogation methods that Prussia taught him. On top of the new stuff…

So he has to get Matthew out - and soon. But how?

It isn't until after midnight that an idea solidifies in his mind. He'll call in a favor and see if a certain asshole will work with him. It's the best chance he's got, even if he isn't particularly friendly with this other nation. 

When Prussia gets up off the couch and makes his way to the back room where he's been sleeping lately, Gilbird flies along after him, tweeting questions. Prussia waves him off and heads to the somewhat new rotary phone in his room. Hopefully the line won't be watched.

He has to look up the number to be sure he doesn't call the wrong brother, but when an annoyed, sleepy voice answers he knows he got it right. "Who the fuck is calling me at this hour? It better not be that fucking tomato bastard."

Prussia chuckles at the nickname for his friend and lets a sly smirk spread on his face. "Nah, Romano, it's just the awesome me."

A beat of silence, then. "I'm hanging up."

"Wait wait wait I know about your resistance connections."

Another beat of silence, then a monotone response. "What resistance?"

"Come on, Lovino, I'm not an idiot."

"Yes you are," Romano shoots back. "I'm not part of the resistance. You think I would go behind my brother like that?"

"Considering I'm doing the same behind my brother's back, yes I do."

"...you're lying."

Prussia rolls his eyes and sits on the small cot he's been calling a bed for the past few weeks. "No, I'm not. I've met some of your people that work on this side. In Berlin, no less."

"..."

Since there's no response, Prussia lets out a lengthy sigh. Romano is always stubborn to a fault. He's not sure what his friend likes about him. 

There's no time for this. He has to get Romano to work with him. It's the best shot to get the guards out of the way and have a place set up to ferry Canada away. So instead of snapping at this stubborn asshole, he needs to play it cool. 

"Look, I'm only calling about this because I need your help."

Finally Romano gives him a decent response, though he's clearly still hesitant. "Why?"

"I need to get Canada out of here before West gets back."

To his surprise - and annoyance - Romano starts laughing hysterically. Prussia pulls the phone speaker away from his ear and scowls. This is why they don't get along. They have some things in common - such as their brothers being the ones to run the country - but when talking to each other it becomes such an angry insult fest. 

Prussia's just being nice for once.

"Oh shut up," he growls into the phone. "Don't ask why just tell me if you'll help or not."

More laughter ensues but Romano eventually gets around to answering. "Sure, I'll see what I can do, but you have to do something for me."

"Of course. What?"

"Mmm. I don't know yet. Let's just say next time you're in my area, you have to do me a favor."

"Hah. Shit," Prussia barks, pushing his bangs back as he rubs his forehead. "You really like keeping favors open, don't you?"

"Take it or leave it."

"Fine, fine, asshat, I'll do whatever."

"Good. Now. Tell me the details and give me the name of the person you've worked with before so I can make it easy."

"Right, right, I know how this works," Prussia says, laying back on the cot, bringing the whole phone with him and not caring about stretching the cords. "You'll have to take care of the guards outside my house while you're at it."

"Heh. You don't ever make things easy. Guess I'll have to come up there myself and -"

"No!"

"...the hell is your problem?"

"West will sense you and ask questions."

For a long while there's no response and he imagines Romano is waving his hands around and holding back a string of curses. Prussia waits patiently. He's already risking too much with this phone call. And with the operation in general.  West is going to be pissed when he comes back and Canada is gone. Best not to get Romano caught up in the fallout if he can help it. Besides, that might hurt relations between Italy and West too. 

Yeah, he'll take the blame all on his own shoulders. West wouldn't do anything too serious. No matter how mad he gets.

~!~

About a week or so later, Prussia dresses himself in as much black as possible, finding a cap that can cover his silvery white hair and hoping that’ll be enough. Sneaking around the city after curfew hours isn’t going to be easy, but he’s gotten more practice at it thanks to the current climate of his country. He has to hope Canada hadn’t been lying when he talked about how he’s done the spy thing for years. He doesn’t want to have to worry too much about the other nation as they make a break for freedom.

After checking the outside by peering through the still-boarded-up-window, Gilbert heads upstairs to where Matthew is sleeping. He takes a moment to watch him in peaceful slumber, enjoying the relaxed state of the man under the covers. But then he reminds himself they don’t have time to waste, so he lightly shakes at Canada’s shoulder and leans down to whisper near his ear.   


“Hey, Matthew, wake up.”

The blue-violet eyes slowly open and blink as the man rejoins the waking world. “Gilbert? Something wrong?”

“Get dressed and come downstairs,” Prussia whispers with a smile. “But be quiet.”

The frown should be expected but thankfully Matthew doesn’t question, just nods. So Gilbert returns to the window downstairs, watching the guards. They’re looking a little sleepy and out of it, but they’re not completely relaxed just yet. He hopes whatever Romano set up is going to work. It’ll be upsetting if he sits here all night with no way out of his own house.

When Canada comes downstairs dressed in his usual clothes, which Prussia has been cleaning almost every day for him, the man hovers nearby and crosses his arms, eyebrows raised. Gilbert smirks and holds a finger over his lips, checking the window again to be sure the guards are actually falling asleep on the job. 

“What’s going on?” Matthew asks softly.

Gilbert grins. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“Huh? How?” The man frowns, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

Waving off the last question, Prussia moves away from the window and pulls out two black trench coats, handing one to Canada. “You think I wouldn’t know about the operations set up to sneak citizens out of my own nation? West tries to hunt them down. I leave them alone.”

Matthew takes the trench coat and slips it on, though he’s still frowning. “Okay, why do you leave them alone?”

“I’m nice, remember?” Prussia says while rolling his eyes. “Now come on. We don’t have much time to make this work.”

He holds out his hand and waits. Canada stares at his hand, then looks up at his eyes with that same narrow-eyed suspicion. Since the clock is ticking on their opportunity, Prussia has to fight the urge to snap at him. It’s become a gesture of trust all of a sudden. He needs to be patient, regardless of how on edge he feels. 

So it’s with relief that Prussia releases a held breath when Matthew finally takes his hand. “Okay.”

“Awesome,” he whispers. “Now just keep your head down and don’t say a word.”

“I know.”

With a smirk, Prussia checks on the state of the guards outside one last time. Once he’s sure it’s safe, he pulls Canada out the door and they’re on their way. Crossing the first street is easy enough. The patrols aren’t facing them and far away so it’s a simple matter of making sure their own footsteps are soft while keeping their pace fast. Once they’re safely hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, though, he realizes they have to wait for the next patrol. 

So he pulls Canada back, pressing him against the wall of the nearest building. There’s no talking, but he can see the steady tremble in the other man’s face. He’s nervous, but he’s doing a good job at hiding it and working through it. To be honest, so is Prussia. 

Licking his lips, he leans in, pressing his body against Canada’s, and whispers into his ear. “Just a few more streets and we’ll be at our destination. There’s a store run by a friend of mine that’s hosting a smuggling operation tonight. They’ll get you out.”

“Okay,” Canada whispers back. “Is this person reliable?”

Prussia hesitates, because he’s thinking of Romano and not the owner of the store, but then he shakes his head with a light laugh and pulls away. “Yeah, I trust him. I’ve gone through him before. Just don’t tell anyone.”

He gives the man a wink, then faces the street again. The patrol is moving along and the one behind them hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary at Gilbert’s house yet, either. So that’s good. 

“What? With who?” Matthew mutters behind him. “When?”

So Gilbert turns back around. “No one important. I just don’t like the idea of hurting your own citizens, you know?”

Matthew smiles. “You really are a good person.”

Which causes Gilbert to blush and hiss between his teeth. “D-don’t go spreading that around now!”

“Why not? It’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I have a reputation.”

Prussia turns away but he can hear Matthew stifling a laugh, so he groans and squeezes his hand instead. Hushing him up with a finger to his lips, he pulls the other man forward and off they go across another street. No incidents this time either. Still no warning signals firing from near his house. 

All is well. 

Walking through the alley, they make it to another street and this patrol is in such a good position, Prussia doesn’t pause. So once more they race across the pavement and find shelter in another alley. He takes a moment to mentally remind himself where they are, realizing that the store in question is across the next block. 

So this is goodbye, then. 

Taking a breath, he spins around, pushes Matthew against the wall, and dives in to kiss him without warning. Hands jump to his shoulders immediately, but quickly relax and cling. Gilbert lets the moment linger, doing everything he can to mark this in his memory.  There’s no telling when they’ll get to meet again, or what the state of the world will be when they do get around to seeing each other. But for now, he wants to remember  _ this _ . Kissing and touching someone he actually likes quite a lot in the hidden shadows of an alleyway.

When he eventually pulls back, he smirks at the flushed face staring back at him. “We have  _ got _ to meet up again after this war is over, ja?”

Matthew’s response comes slow, but he does nod - and he keeps staring. “O-oui. Definitely.”

“All right,” Gilbert says, turning to nod his head toward the street. “This place is right across here. Once I drop you off, you’ll be on your own with them. They’ll get you into Allied controlled territory and I assume you can handle it from there.”

“Y-yeah, I can handle it from there,” Matthew says as he steps up next to him. “But what about you? What will happen to you when your brother finds out you let me go?”   


Although a flash of fear spreads through his chest, Prussia waves it off. “Pft. Don’t worry about me. West will probably just yell at me and keep me locked up in my house. Which will suck, but there’s no way he’ll do anything worse.”

“I hope you’re right about that.”

Prussia drops his hold on Matthew’s hand so he can grip into his shoulder. “Seriously. He’s my brother. Underneath the monster, there’s still that.”

In order to avoid any more conversation on the topic, he walks across the street to their destination and heads to a side door to knock a few times in secret code. Matthew seems to be dragging his feet as he comes up next to him, but Gilbert shrugs. Whether or not he’s going with him shouldn’t matter. Matthew will be free. What happens to him afterwards isn’t going to be any worse than what’s already been going on. 

So why does it feel like he’s having to convince  _ himself? _

Once the store owner answers and they work out the last bit of details, Prussia spins to Matthew with a grin. “All right. This is it. Just follow their instructions as best you can. I’ll see you on the other side of the war.”

“Yeah,” Matthew breathes, “Danke.”

While Prussia is stunned hearing Canada speak a German word, basic though it is, the other nation wraps him in a hug and squeezes with all his might. Which is far more than Prussia is expecting so he covers his grimace with a laugh. And pats the other man on the back. 

“Right, right, don’t go getting weird on me now.”

Matthew steps back and Gilbert pretends not to see the tears forming in those beautiful blue-violet eyes. “Seriously, thank you. I’ll find a way to repay you. I promise.”

He waves it off. “Pft. Don’t worry. Just as long as I get to see you again, I think I’ll be happy.”

Matthew nods, they say their goodbyes one more time, and then he’s into the shop and Gilbert is alone. He half expects the sky to start raining or snowing in response to the sudden emptiness he feels. But this isn’t his country anymore, is it? 

With a sigh, he sticks his hands in his pockets and makes his way back to his house, thoughts of Matthew and West colliding in his head. And Romano and Italy, too, wondering how  _ that _ brother relationship is working out with this war. Gritting his teeth, he releases a curse into the wind and kicks a can into the street.

Which is a stupid idea because now the patrol is after him. Cursing again, he holds his hands up to surrender, knowing the worst they’re going to do is check his identification and find out he’s an officer in the military. With special records and instructions for how to handle him, no doubt.

God, West is going to kill him for this. 

~!~

_ Several Days Later _

~!~

Francis Bonnefoy, otherwise known as the person representative of France, lays on a couch in England’s mansion of a home and stares out the nearby window, wishing he had a glass of wine to dull his senses. Life has not been easy. Of course, during war times, life is never easy. What’s depressing is how little he’s been able to contribute since the German force ransacked their way through his countryside.

Now he spends too many of his days wasting time in England’s home. Arthur is not too happy by the arrangement, but he allows it because they’re allies. They haven’t always been allies and there’s a lot of bitter history between them, but at this moment in time they’re working on the same side.

To push back on Germany and all the others under the Axis Powers. Which includes his friend, Gilbert, better known as the once proud nation of Prussia. Still proud. Still an ass. After what Gil did, though, he’s not so sure he wants to be friends anymore anyway. 

The freezing rain from outside picks up, splattering the window as the trees outside dance to the storm winds. Francis frowns and once again wishes he had a glass of wine. Arthur’s stores have run dry far too quickly. 

“Why are you still here?” Arthur calls from across the room.

The English nation is sitting at a desk, reading reports and making notes. He never stops. He’s exhausted as all hell, but he keeps pushing himself. That darker blond hair of his is tousled like the man just got out of bed, and his suit is wrinkled with the buttons undone, revealing beautiful, sweaty skin underneath that France watches as the other nation takes deep breath after deep breath.

They’ve already released some tension today, but Francis wonders if he can convince his ally to go at it again. Arthur’s always easier to push when he’s this close to breaking. Since the fun is something that manages to hold him together, even if there’s not as much feeling in it as there has been in the past, Francis pushes him whenever he thinks he needs it. For his sake as much as for his country. 

A pen drops to the desk and green eyes flash up at him. “Well?”

Francis waves his hand in the air and runs it through his own beautiful golden locks. “I am not leaving until Canada arrives.”

“Why do you care?”

“He was mine before he was yours, mon cher.”

Arthur positively bristles, though whether from the statement or the endearment, he’s not sure. “Be that as it may, you could have met him when he crossed your country.”

Once again, Francis waves his hand in the air to brush aside the idea. “Would take too much time, and I like it here.”

“Well I don’t like  _ you _ here so -”

He’s interrupted, thankfully before another spat of theirs can start up, by the door to the study opening. A familiar voice converses with the butler or maid or whoever walked him in, and then Canada steps into the room, looking like he’s been through hell and back again. Francis and Arthur both spring from their positions and rush over to touch him and make sure he’s alive and well. 

The younger nation smiles, though his eyes seem a little too distressed to mean it. “I’m all right. I wish I could say the same for my team, but I promise, I’m fine.”

Francis continues to hang around the other nation, but Arthur crosses his arms and steps back, nodding his head. “Yes, well, that will be the last time you make such an excursion.”

Canada lifts his head like he’s going to argue, then seems to decide against it and mumbles. “Okay.”

For his part, France rolls his eyes at England and slaps an arm over Canada’s shoulders. “What happened?”

“I -” Canada’s face flushes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“I -” Canada bites his lip then shoves away from France and stands back, pointing his finger at him and then England. “You both told me Prussia was a monster. That he’s irredeemable. That if I were to be caught by him, I-”

Arthur’s demeanor shifts in an instant. “What has he done to you?”

“Nothing!” Canada snaps. “He’s not at all what you said! He’s just trying to help his people and -”

“Absurd,” Arthur says and turns around. “I won’t hear it. You don’t know what he’s done, Canada. I’m glad he didn’t do anything horrific to you, but I think you need a nice, long, rest before we can discuss further positions in this war.”

“But -”

Green eyes flash and France winces. The British Empire is the one leading so much of the war efforts right now, at least among them. So much is resting on his shoulders. He’s exhausted and he’s going to be stubborn in his beliefs. Whatever Canada may have experienced behind enemy lines, it won’t be enough to change anyone’s mind on this side of the front.

Shaking his head, Francis gets a grip of Canada’s shoulder and gently leads him away. They’ll talk through everything so he has a better understanding of what’s going through the younger nation’s mind right now. Then he’ll make sure Canada gets some food and sleep and can have time to recover from his ordeal.

Other than that, it’s back to the war as normal.

~!~

Italy holds his breath and watches Germany closely as they ride in the back of a military vehicle. The North Africa campaign is a mess so it feels good to leave it all, hoping the build up of troops they've left will be able to make a difference. Honestly, Italy shouldn't even be back in Berlin right now, but he's worried for his fellow nation.

Germany has only gotten worse and worse as the war drags on. He’s so easy to anger now. It's not quite as fun to frustrate him because the dark aura around him is only growing. 

Like now.

They'd heard some information about Germany's brother that has spiked Germany's rage into unbelievable heights. This is why Italy is here now. If it's true that Gilbert helped another nation escape without ever interrogating him successfully…

Shuffling in his seat, Italy glances over at the manilla folder in Germany's hand. It supposedly holds secret intelligence and information on Prussia. On Gilbert. So why has Germany scribbled the word "traitor" across the front in black marker?

He doesn't like where this could be going…

"Ve, Germany, you're not going to hurt your brother, are you?"

The stoic nation glances at him with ice cold eyes, then looks out the window instead. He doesn't say a word. Italy gives him plenty of time to come up with a response, but all the waiting leads to nothing. 

Before he can press again, they arrive at the townhouse area and the car stops in front of one that's heavily guarded. Germany climbs out and Italy follows, shivering from more than just the falling snow. They're both in their uniforms, but Germany is the one issuing orders here because it's his home. So Italy hangs back and worries at his bottom lip.

He is surprised when Germany gestures for him to follow into the house. It's quaint. Nice and clean, minus the boarded up windows and other indications of recent bombings - a sight that is all too common these days. They pass by a small kitchen and a set of stairs before reaching the den where Prussia is being held. 

Italy sucks in a quick breath and puts a hand over his mouth. He's going to be sick if this leads where he fears. Prussia is seated on his couch with a military guard next to him and another perched by the windows. They really aren't playing when it comes to guarding him. They've even got the albino nation shackled in handcuffs already. 

"Gilbert," Germany says, foregoing his usual "bruder" and making both Italy and Prussia flinch because of it. "What have you done?"

Prussia lifts his head and smirks. "The right thing. Now how about you relax a bit? Get this shit off me and go back to keeping me under house arrest like before."

"The right thing," Germany repeats in a monotone, though Italy sees his fists clench. "Tell me you didn't actually release our prized prisoner."

Prussia narrows his eyes and gets to his feet, stepping up to stand directly in front of his brother. "Cut the shit. What are you going to do if I admit to the accusation?"

"Just tell me straight, Gilbert. Did you release him?"

Red eyes flash and the albino smirks. "Yeah. I did. Smuggled him out. By now he should be safe in Allied con-"

He doesn't have a chance to finish. Germany lifts a fist and punches Prussia hard in the face, sending the albino nation stumbling back to land on the couch. Italy gasps and covers his mouth with both hands. 

He wants to scream. He wants to beg Germany not to do this. He doesn't like seeing these brothers fight, but this is even worse. Germany isn't in his right mind. And now he's angry beyond belief. 

Italy's scared of him. 

Prussia spits to the side and wipes his mouth with his arm. "Yeah, okay, that's probably the first time you've hit me that hard. But I'll take it."

"Shut up," Germany growls. "Traitor."

Italy flinches back because Prussia sits up at this, as if he knows what such a word could mean, too. "West, you wouldn't."

"You've betrayed me."

"No, I haven't. Come on, West, calm down. I'm your brother."

"I'm writing you off."

"West, don't!"

"The paperwork is already done."

"You can't be serious!"

Prussia tries to get to his feet again, but the soldiers in the area pin him down, punching him in the gut to get him to comply easier. Italy can't believe he's witnessing this. He wants to reach out and tell Germany to stop. There has to be something he can do. 

"Lud-"

He starts but the younger German brother looks back at him with such an ice cold glare, he freezes on the spot. The words catch in his throat. Tears cloud his vision. He can't. He can't do anything. 

Germany's monster is in control. 

"Wessssst," Prussia hisses out though his head hangs and his voice is trembling. "You  _ can't. _ "

Germany's voice is hard and firm. "Take him away. There's a van outside that'll transport him."

Moving away from the door, Italy tries to rush over to Germany's side. Maybe he can still find the right words to stop this. But, as the soldiers remove a screaming Prussia from the room and eventually the house, Italy drops to the floor. He can't move. He can barely breathe.

"Germany…." He manages to squeak through the tears that are flowing down his face. "Why?"

Blue eyes meet his and there’s a small spark of concern in that look, but it's gone too fast to give him hope. "Once we're done with our planning meeting, I want you to go home, Italy."

"Yes, sir."

Why can't he shake this feeling? The pain eats into his stomach. He wants to throw up. He wants to curl up and cry. He wants Germany back. This monster isn't the person he likes. 

...but there’s nothing he can do. He's helpless. Useless.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years pass and the end of the war is nigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall. This chapter. Was so hard to write. Ahem. Probably the roughest chapter of the whole story. But hey, after this, all we can do is go up. So be prepared and then join me for the aftermath that comes next.
> 
> Note: I have done so much freakin' research and I have SEEN SOME SHIT. I'm not going to use EVERYTHING i learned/saw OBVIOUSLY because I am a wuss and no one wants to deal with all that, but rest assured, I have done some research to make this chapter work as respectfully as I can.

9

It's sometime in April 1945 when Canada decides to leave his own forces in France and join America in liberating camps in south western Germany. By the third one, he's realized that he'll never be used to the horrors. Hearing about the camps, reading information reports, is not at all the same as visiting them in person.

This one in particular is scarring him internally with every new sight. After seeing decomposing corpses stashed in railcars, Canada has to step out and relieve his stomach. 

"Hey, bro," America says as he steps up, clinging to his rifle like it's a lifeline amid the darker sides of humanity thrown out for everyone to see in full view. "You holding up okay?"

Canada nods slowly, wiping his mouth and grabbing his own rifle off the wrecked ground. "Y-yeah. I'll be fine. We need to help these people."

"What's left of them…"

Canada winces at what his brother says. He wishes they had all been better prepared. America's soldiers hadn't even been expecting to liberate concentration camps, but who could blame them? They were pushing toward Berlin to force Germany to surrender.

This…

"Ah shit," America jerks a bit, revealing the dogtags hanging outside of his M1943 field uniform. "My men are worked up about something. I hope they're not rounding up the SS soldiers who surrendered and-"

Canada freezes at the implications, remembering what happened last time. "Go check on them. I'll search around this area for more survivors."

"All right. Catch ya later, dude."

He watches America dash down a rocky road back toward the camp entrance. Then he takes a deep breath, coughs at the smell that reaches his nose, and wipes tears from his eyes before continuing to head deeper into the camp. 

Feeling like he’s marching in a daze at the end of the world, Canada searches through building after building. With each step, he loses more faith in humanity. How could the people do this to their own neighbors? How could this be allowed?

How did Germany and Prussia withstand the pain, knowing what was happening,  _ feeling _ what was happening to their own citizens? 

He takes a moment to rest against the outer wall of one building. His rifle sits next to him. The heat is almost unbearable under all this military gear. It's almost summer, too. Such a stark contrast from the last time he was in this area, though Berlin is still several hours north and east. 

Staring up at the overcast sky, glad to have some measure of relief from the sun, Canada blinks and frowns. Is that a yellow bird? 

He sits up, grabbing his rifle, as the bird in question comes flying down. It  _ is _ a yellow chick. So similar to the one in Gilbert’s house, resting in the albino's hair all the time. Wait. He frowns as the bird comes closer and flies around in circles above his head, tweeting loudly and obsessively. 

"Gilbird," he whispers, eyes widening at a realization. "Mon dieu. Gilbert’s here, isn't he? Where? Show me."

The bird flies a circle around him once more, then takes off down the dirt road. Matthew follows, gripping his rifle closer with each step. America has the right idea. The weapon is like a life line amid all this darkness. Something to cling to when he doesn't have anyone to fill the position. 

He's trying to come to grips with the idea of Gilbert being thrown here with Germany's other list of undesirables. It's hard to believe a brother could do that, and Prussia had been so sure he would be fine. But why else would the yellow bird be here? 

Chewing his bottom lip, he forces his mind to accept the thought and finally follows Gilbird into one of the buildings. At first there's nothing to see. It's empty of inhabitants. Just a place with a few bunk beds, a notable lack of blankets, and not a soul remaining.

Until the yellow bird leads him to a shadowed corner and Matthew gasps in a breath at the sight of the familiar shock of wild silvery white hair. His weapon falls from his fingers. Gilbert is laying down on the dirty ground, curled up on his side, red eyes open but vacant. 

Gilbird tweets a few times then lands in front of the albino nation. Matthew works up the courage to step forward, leaving his rifle behind him. Kneeling down, he reaches out to gently shake the other nation's shoulder. 

"Gilbert…" he whispers. "Why are you here? You told me he wouldn't do something this radical so, why?"

Red eyes lift up and glance away as the man pulls himself to a sitting position. "Great. I'm hallucinating now."

"Gil…" Matthew starts then takes a deep breath, fighting the sting in his eyes. "You're not hallucinating. I'm really here. With America. Come on. We can get you somewhere to rest and eat."

Maybe it's too many words for the addled nation to follow. Prussia barely seems to comprehend. Instead, he just stares without saying a word and his eyes look so dead it breaks his heart. This man has so much energy and life and personality, but now it's all been stripped away. 

Thankfully, the bird is here to help. He's curling up in the dirty white hair and chirping. He even pokes his beak at the albino's head a few times when Prussia refuses to believe him.

So eventually those red eyes widen and Prussia leans forward, setting hands on either of Matthew’s arms. "Holy shit. You're real. You're actually- Wait. Does this mean we've lost?"

Huffing because he can't believe Gilbert would immediately worry about such a thing considering the situation he's in, Matthew responds while trying to keep the bite out of his voice. "Not quite but it's only a matter of time until Germany surrenders. Is that really what matters to you right now?"

Prussia shakes his head. "West. He's - he's okay, right? Not too badly hurt or anything?"

"I don't know for sure. I think Russia is going to beat us to Berlin, if he hasn't already."

Gilbert’s face sets into panic and he scrambles to his feet before Canada even finishes his statement. "I have to get to him. I can't let that asshole hurt him. I have to-ugh-"

Pain crosses the albino's face and Canada stands up to give him something to lean on. "You're not in a good enough condition to do that, Gilbert."

"I don't care," Prussia hisses. "I have to-"

"You can't get there anyway," Canada insists. "Al and I won't let you. Come on. I can take you back to our base and you can get some food and new clothes."

Red eyes turn on him, a dangerous glow in that glare. Prussia opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by another sound echoing from the outside. Gun shots. Canada sucks in a breath as Prussia flinches back as if he were the one shot, and he makes sure to hold the albino nation while the man slumps and groans. 

Narrowing his eyes, Canada looks toward the exit of the building and murmurs a curse. Al’s people probably got worked up again. This can’t keep happening. They’re supposed to hold the German soldiers prisoner once they surrender, but far too often now the Americans are taking justice into their own hands. 

What’s difficult is that it’s hard to blame them for the departure in protocol, especially after all he’s seen.

A shuddering breath escapes from the man he’s holding up, and Matthew frowns as he tries to walk Gilbert toward the exit. Their steps are slow and as soon as they’re out in the sunshine, the other nation pulls away and leans his back against the outside wall. Not knowing what else to do, Matthew steps away and waits to see if Gilbert will say or do anything. 

He’s stunned at the sight of tears in those red eyes as the other man blinks up at the sunlight.

“I hate this,” Gilbert growls. “So much shame on top of so much hateful rage. It’s worse than the hunger.” 

Matthew winces and whispers. “I can’t imagine.”

White hair shifts as the albino shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have to. No one should.”

“What -” Licking his lips, Matthew tries again. “What about you?”

Red eyes glance toward him. “Huh?”

“I mean, that’s how your people feel. But what do you feel?” He pauses, staring down at the dusty pavement under his feet. “What are you going to do when you get the chance to see Germany again?”

There’s the sound of a sharp intake of breath followed by absolute silence. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone there. Maybe he should be asking how Prussia feels about  _ him _ instead. After all, it’s because of him that Germany could have even thought of throwing his own brother into one of these places. Because Gilbert rescued him. Because he helped Canada escape from Berlin before anything bad could actually fall on him. 

Only for Gilbert to end up here…

Putting a hand to his heart, Matthew squeezes at the uniform he’s wearing, wishing there was more he could do. He knows what England and France and the others have been discussing. How much England wants to blame it all on Prussia. How they want to do everything possible to get rid of him. But he can’t warn Prussia. He can’t say a thing. The guilt drives into him and he fights the sharp sting of tears. 

Now isn’t the time to break down. He needs to push it off and get them out of here. Get Prussia somewhere safer where he can recover as much as possible. What comes next, he isn’t sure, but they need to leave this place. That much is certain, and everything that comes after will just have to be thought about later. 

So he shakes his head and holds out his hand to Prussia. "Nevermind. You can think about that later. We need to get you out of here, and to do that I need to bring you to Alfred."

Prussia tenses. "He's here, huh? He's going to see me like this and there’s no avoiding it, is there?"

"I - yeah?" Matthew frowns. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

The other nation scoffs as Gilbird flies around to land on his shoulder and tweets something at him. "Guess I don't have a choice anyway. You guys have pretty much won at this point. That makes me the prisoner now."

There's a bit of a laugh but it sounds so weak and forced and Matthew has to bite the inside of his cheek at the sound. This isn't right. None of this is right. 

Thankfully, Gilbert doesn't say anything else. He doesn't take Matthew’s offered hand or shoulder, either, refusing any help to walk down the road. Canada of course has to run back in to grab his rifle, but then he's leading Prussia toward the camp entrance. 

His heart sinks as he walks and has more time to think since neither of them talk. Gilbert. Here. As a prisoner in the camp. He can't believe it. And it's all his fault. If he hadn't come to Berlin and gotten caught, then this wouldn't have happened. Prussia probably would have kept getting the short end of the stick in the military, but it would be better than this. Anything would have been better than being thrown in here.

The guilt swarms around inside of him until they finally reach the entrance. Near the barbed wire fences, a line of German soldier corpses lay on the ground. America is discussing things with another officer and the soldiers no doubt responsible for the act. Canada isn't sure what sort of punishment America will give them for killing enemies who have already surrendered, but he’s at least thankful the tough decision is out of his hands.

He walks toward America to try to get his attention, then notices that Prussia has stopped by the soldier corpses. It's hard to explain the emotions in the albino's face, but Canada is surprised there isn't anger there. These soldiers no doubt mistreated their own nation - having no idea of course - and yet all Gilbert can do is stand there frowning with a blank look in his eyes.

Matthew wants to say something to him, but America finally walks up and makes his presence known. "Hey, bro, find anyone else hiding back there?"

"Well, yeah…"

He drifts off and then notices America's eyes widen. "Holy shit, dude. You found Prussia? Here? What's he doing here?"

With a sigh, Canada shakes his head. He has so much he wants to say to explain things but he can't find words. Everything is stuck in his throat and he's on the verge of breaking down from the pressure and the mounting guilt at what's happened because of him. 

America, no longer holding his rifle, crosses his arms and stares behind Canada to the albino nation. He looks like any of his other soldiers dressed in his army fatigues instead of his favorite bomber jacket. The rest of them just sort of blend in with their nation militaries, after all.

Prussia, though… 

"I can't believe he's here," America mutters. "Do you think England might lay off on his plans if we tell him?"

Canada sighs. "I doubt it. I mean, will you?"

America winces. "Hard to say, honestly. Convincing my boss would be the hard part. You know that. Besides, at this point I'm going to be more focused on Japan, so I'll probably leave Europe affairs to Artie and whoever."

"Right… I guess I'll have to do what I can to convince him, then."

"Good luck," America mutters before looking away from Canada and putting on a grin. "Hey, dude, long time no see."

At this moment, Prussia walks up to them both, hands trembling at his sides, though it's minor and probably not something he wants Canada to point out. The man looks more shaken than earlier, most likely because he's closer to his people. Considering what he could be feeling from them right now, Canada wants to reach out and hold him and tell him it will be all right.

But he probably wouldn't want that either, especially not in front of another nation. 

Prussia does take a moment to size America up and then sigh. "Sometimes I regret helping you back then."

America and Canada both blink at the statement, though Al is the one who speaks. "What the hell? Why even bring that up?"

Gilbert smirks. "Why not? It’s the only time we've really worked together and I think you owe me."

"Yeah right," America says a bit uneasily. "You didn't do much. I owe more to France for help in the revolution than you. You didn’t have your boss help or anything. Just you and some guy."

While Canada makes a mental note to ask about this revelation later, he knows now is not the time. So he waves a hand in between them and tries a smile. For once, he manages to grab attention and the two focus in better than he expected.

"Look," he says. "There’s no time for this. I want to take Gilbert back to the closest base we have so he can, uh, wash up and stuff."

Gil nods, immediately turning away. America, on the other hand, slaps Canada on the shoulder and laughs.

"Sure, treat him special, that's fine by me," Alfred says before leaning in close. "You gonna get revenge for whatever he did to you when you were a prisoner?"

"I-" Canada feels his face flush. "It's not that at all. I really do want to help him, Al."

"Sure, sure," America says as he hands over a set of keys. "Take my half-track. You can drop off a handful of wounded and then go wherever, right?"

Canada nods in relief as he takes the keys. "Yeah. Thanks, Al."

"Not a problem, bro," America says. "I  _ am _ the hero here."

While he rolls his eyes at the comment, Matthew has to smile because for once Alfred says this line at an appropriate moment. He doesn't respond, instead letting Al leave and focus on what he's supposed to be doing. Matthew has more important things to worry about now. 

Even as he faces Gilbert and leads him to one of the armored vehicles on the outskirts of the camp, it's hard to keep the smile.

~!~

Nothing feels right. 

He's tried to explain it to Canada, but there’s been no luck there. Just like there’s been no luck in pinning down his true feelings for West. It's hard when he's surrounded by so many of his own people who are in the same situation as him. Even more difficult is the fact that he can't hate the soldiers responsible for guarding or enacting such horrible atrocities. 

Propaganda is a scary thing. What it can do to the mildest of people. How the constricting thoughts have turned West's control into a monster. How even  _ he _ fell in line at the beginning. 

So it's hard to blame anyone when he’s seen what's been working behind the scenes. He wants to blame their boss. And himself for not preparing West for such issues. Then again, he still can't believe his own brother actually went so far… 

There has to be  _ some _ blame, right? 

Maybe that's why he's so passive staring at his own soldiers dead in the dirt after surrendering and being shot anyway by the American forces. Maybe it's too much to feel anything anymore. Maybe he's cutting himself off, wishing he could find a sweet release of mortal death even though he still fears that unknown. 

But then Canada is there. Matthew smiles and even if it's obviously forced and doesn't reach his beautiful eyes, Prussia finds a reason to push on and live through this situation. He's still here. And someone who likes him, who knows the truth, is right here, pulling him along. 

They ride in one of America's military vehicles and Prussia stares out at the landscape. He's not in his homeland. It may be Germany, but it's not the land he's ever called his own. Too far south and west for that. 

The destruction tears into him anyway, and he wonders how his brother is doing. He remembers what Canada said about Russia being the closest to Berlin and has to fight the sudden urge to jump out and run for his capital. 

There’s nothing for it. West can handle himself. West  _ has _ to handle himself. He's pushed everyone else away. If the rumors are true, he's even pushed Italy to the other side. So he's on his own for sure now. It's hard to admit, but Prussia is sort of glad he can't see West right now anyway. 

He still has to work out what he's going to say. 

Which brings him back to the original thought. Nothing feels right. He can barely feel anything at all and it's so confusing he can't figure out where his  _ own _ emotions actually reside in all this. Maybe that's why he never answered Matthew when he asked earlier. 

"Gilbert," Matthew says as he drives. "You're going to be okay."

Prussia lazily turns his head to face the other nation, though Canada can’t do the same. "Sure."

"You'll see," Matthew goes on, forcing another one of those weak smiles. "I promise. You're awesome, right?"

His lips quirk up and Prussia nods, leaning on the side of the truck and closing his eyes. "Right. I'm awesome. And tired."

"I understand," Matthew murmurs. "Get some sleep."

No sooner do the words enter the air than Prussia is fast asleep in dreamland. At least this time, he can relax, knowing the worst is over. 

~!~

Once Canada arrives at the closest military base in question, he finds a secluded building where he can temporarily drop off Gilbert. The albino nation climbs out and makes his way inside with the yellow bird flying around leading the way. Then Canada does his duty and makes certain that the ones America trusted him with are brought relief appropriate to each individual. 

He spends way more time working on this last thing than he expected, but it shouldn't have been a surprise. The base is a flurry of activity. Mostly French and American soldiers work together to help the ones liberated from the camps, or those soldiers wounded in nearby skirmishes. Canada gets distracted and pulled around until he's dizzy switching between English and French. 

But finally, he can make his way back to the small building he's managed to claim outside of any interference. Parking the half-track isn't too much of a problem and he doesn't think twice about leaving his rifle in the vehicle. His mind is awhirl with other things right now. Namely, whether Prussia is doing okay all by himself. 

Carrying a plate of bread, cheese, and a bowl of soup, Canada walks into the base and frowns when Prussia isn’t immediately in sight. He sets the plate down on the counter in the small kitchenette, eyes glancing over the seats in the lounge area. No sign of Prussia here so maybe the albino found a place to rest in the back. He’s lucky no one else is in this building yet, but it’s probably something Francis set aside as his own long ago. It  _ is _ behind a gate that requires certain passcodes, after all. 

Not that any of this train of thought matters. He needs to find Prussia. So he leaves the plate of food and explores the back hallways of the officer’s club or mess or whatever they call it here. In his own experiences, such places have showers, sometimes baths, restrooms, and a few barracks style bedrooms. It isn’t long for him to spot a familiar yellow chick flying out of the near bathroom, and Canada smiles lightly at seeing Prussia walk out shortly thereafter.

The albino has managed to find a set of navy pants and a white tank-top to wear instead of the horrid pajama-looking striped clothes of the camps. Which is a huge relief, even if Canada might have to leave some coins or something to make up for the clothes snatched from whoever normally roosts here. Red eyes find him and stare for a moment, a darkness hiding behind them that still has yet to be cleared, even if his hair and body has been washed of the grime of his previous living conditions. Gilbert twitches after a moment and takes the towel draped over his hair to wrap around his left arm and wrist.

“Uh,” Gilbert grunts, eyes suddenly staring anywhere but at him. “You uh, have some medical tape or bandages I can wrap this in for now?”

Canada’s eyes widen at the implication, glancing toward the arm in question and then frowning. “Yeah…”

“Where?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll get it. You should go over to the lounge area. I brought in some food.”

Gilbert’s stomach growls, long enough to make them both wince, and then the albino nation mumbles. “Right. Okay. Sure.”

An awkward silence descends. Matthew takes a breath and turns away to find the first aid kits. There should be plenty to work with here, if not as much as at an actual aid station or hospital. Behind him, Prussia picks his feet up and drags his way into the lounge. A glance over his shoulder shows the man still with the towel wrapped around his arm. 

Matthew chews on the inside of his cheek and wishes this nightmare could disappear. He’s not sure what Prussia is hiding, but he hopes it’s nothing serious. He doesn’t remember seeing any fresh wounds on the other man, so is it something else? Searching for the bandage wrap, Matthew finds his own hands are shaking at every movement and he has to take a moment to step back and breathe.

This is rough, but he can manage. He has to. For Prussia’s sake. No, for Gilbert’s sake. 

When he returns to the lounge, Gilbert is sitting in one of the chairs around the public radio. He's sipping at the soup with one slow spoonful at a time, and even though their nation-immunity means Prussia could never actually starve or face repercussions from being starved, it's nice seeing the man eat sensibly. 

Matthew slides into a seat next to him and holds out the bandage wrap. "Here. Will this do?"

Gilbert puts the food to the side and takes the bandage wrap with a mumbled, "Thanks."

Silence stalks again but Canada doesn't feel quite so awkward this time. Maybe because he's focused on watching what Prussia does. The red eyes glance his way, the man sighs, and then the towel is removed to reveal a string of numbers tattooed on Gilbert’s arm near his wrist. 

"Did they -" he bites his tongue as soon as the words escape. "Sorry. I shouldn't ask."

Prussia grunts and works on hiding the numbers with the bandage wrapping. "I'd rather not let anyone know, but I trust you'll keep the secret, huh?"

"Y-yeah," Canada whispers. "I haven't seen anyone else with-"

"That's 'cause I was in another camp that did this before they moved me to the one where you found me," Gilbert says, his voice dead and distant. "I don't think anyone was comfortable with a political prisoner being someone who used to give them orders. So they moved me a couple times over the years. It  _ has  _ been a few years now, right?"

Matthew nods. "Yeah. Well I don't know when exactly Germany turned on you, but it’s 1945 now."

Prussia tenses and whispers. "You had to say it like that."

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean-!"

"It's all right," Prussia interrupts, waving his now bandaged arm in the air. "Though it's more accurate to say his monster did all that. He lost control and-"

The man cuts off, taking a shaky breath. Matthew frowns because Gilbert remains silent even as he hands over the remaining bandage wrappings. A look into those red eyes show the shine of light against water waiting to fall. 

So Matthew keeps his mouth shut and waits. If ever Gilbert needed someone to listen to him patiently, now would be it. He can't imagine having to suffer like this. When they're around their people, the connections of their emotions feed into their own. Maybe pulling Gilbert away from the camp and keeping him away from his people for a while would be a blessing. 

England probably wants him under lock and key somewhere anyway.

"I need to see him," Gilbert mutters after a while. "Or write something. Or both."

Matthew chews his bottom lip. "I don't think I can get you to him right now."

"Who's going to take charge when everything is over?"

"Probably England."

Prussia leans forward, eyes hard. "Then take me to Arthur."

Canada pulls back and looks away. "I don't think that will be easy, but I'll take you to his country and I'll see what I can do from there. I doubt he'll want to be hanging around anywhere else."

"That's fine," Gilbert says, a small smile crossing his face. "Not much else you can do when you work under him, huh?"

Matthew sends him a  _ look _ and Gilbert actually barks a laugh. It's harsh and cracked, but it’s true and honest, too. He can't believe the other nation has the gall to make fun of Canada’s state as a commonwealth nation. 

But if it makes Prussia come back to himself, then it's all right by him. 

Gilbert returns to the soup and bread as the yellow bird hops down to rest on the man's leg. "Oh. Can you get me some paper to write a letter?"

Matthew raises an eyebrow. "What for?"

"So I can write West in case I don't get a chance to see him." When Matthew frowns, Gilbert continues, making sure to tap Gilbird on the head a few times. "This little chick can find any nation and fly any distance. He'll deliver the letter so don't worry about the details."

"Oh," Matthew says with a blink. "Okay, then, I'll see what i can find."

He stands up, getting a mumbled word of gratitude from the albino nation. Canada quickly realizes the reason for the soft words, too. Prussia is giving his full attention to the food. 

Feeling grateful that he’s the one to have found Gilbert in this state, Matthew steps away and decides to keep a close eye on the other nation, even if it has to be distant and awkward between them for a little while. No matter what England decides, he wants to spend as much time with Prussia while he can. The war is practically over. Now it's just a matter of working through the aftermath. 

And doing all he can to save the life of someone he cares about. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada takes Prussia to England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one feels a little short, but gosh I got it out at last.

10

It takes days, maybe weeks, for Canada to finish up the duties he’s been assigned while also taking charge of Prussia. In this time, the Allies force Germany to issue an official surrender, and the true aftermath and cleaning up of the war can begin. There's a lot to do, but Canada does his best to help his own people and allies while making sure Prussia has all he needs to recover. 

When they finally arrive in London as per Gilbert’s request to see England, the albino nation is much closer to his old self, cracking a few jokes and teasing Canada at the most surprising times. Of course, there's also moments like this, where Prussia stares off into the distance and doesn't seem to recognize that he's with someone. 

Like now, Prussia is standing at a window looking out of Buckingham Palace and frowning at who knows what while his thoughts take him. Canada sighs and leaves him be, glad at least that they've found dark slacks and a fresh white button-down for Gilbert to wear and call his own, though the man continues to wrap his arm in bandages as if he's hiding an injury. 

For the moment, Matthew has to let it be and hope time will heal those internal wounds. He has to stay focused on something else. Like convincing England that they don't need to be placing blame on Prussia and they don't need to go through with this whole idea of abolishing him. It's hard to break through the face of the British Empire, but he has to try. 

Which is why they're here. England doesn't normally stay in the palace grounds, but enough questions into his whereabouts have led Canada to search a study room in this huge place. Thankfully, there’s guides and secretaries to lead them through the halls to where Arthur is working, but it takes far too much effort to get the humans to do what he needs. Apparently, England doesn't want to be disturbed. 

After pushing consistently for an hour or so, they're allowed into the room without further incident. When Canada opens the door and allows Prussia to follow him, he finds England sitting at a dark wood desk covered in papers, pens, and various paperweights. The other nation doesn't look up at first, focused on reading something in his hand and then signing it with a flourish. In this time, Canada and Prussia step fully into the well curtained room, which hide the few broken windows he knows are still there. 

Finally, England looks up and green eyes flash. "No. Get him out of here."

"Oh shove it, Arthur," Gilbert says before Matthew can open his mouth. "I need to talk to my brother and I hear you're the one in charge so I've got to go through you."

"I am the British Empire and you will call me by that name!" England snaps before lowering his voice. "I'm not talking to you. Get out."

"All right,  _ Mr. British Empire _ , good job on winning the war in the end. Now would you mind letting me see my brother? It's been two years since I last saw him."

England stands up and walks around his desk, like he’s going to personally throw them out of his room, only to stop, frown, and cross his arms. "Why weren't you with him?"

"Ah, that's - " Prussia shifts and rubs at his arm with the bandage. "Kind of complicated."

At this, Matthew tenses and brings a hand to his face. Biting his lip, he looks between the two. A current world power and a nation who is falling into history. There must be some stories of them working together, as Gilbert has mentioned, but as they are now it's hard to see any similarities.

Besides their stubbornness, maybe.

But none of that matters anyway, does it? Prussia is barely hanging on to his nation status as it is and England wants to rip it away from him. Prussia is so prideful he doesn't want to reveal why this wouldn't be fair. England is too exhausted from the war effort to see through the haze of what his people want, and he's wrapped up in those feelings because staying at home is the best way to recharge his energy. 

And here  _ he _ stands, once again nothing more than an invisible Canada sitting on the sidelines, finding it hard to bring any defense to the limelight. He wants to save Prussia from being abolished. He doesn't want to see someone he cares for disappear. Yet he also wants to respect Prussia’s inane pride by not revealing the numbers under that bandage, the proof of what Germany has done to his own brother, that it can't all be laid at Prussia’s feet.

Words come from Canada’s lips as he steps forward for attention. "England, he’s the one who rescued me when I-"

Only to be silenced by a cold green glare. "Know your place, Canada."

"Tch," Prussia scoffs nearby. "You and your empire bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Matthew takes a breath and tries again. He doesn't know why these two are so quick to fight, but he can’t let them continue like this. He has to make England see. He  _ has _ to.

"England, listen," he says, "It wasn't his fault. He just -"

And the glare freezes him mid sentence once again. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"Hey!" Prussia shouts, rushing to stand in front of Canada. "Stop being such a fucking ass to Matthew! I didn't save him just so you could put on that high and mighty attitude of yours and talk down to him like this."

Matthew tenses because he sees the frustration and annoyance flash through England’s face. This will all be for nothing if Prussia pisses England off here. He can't just let them go at each other's throats. The tension in the room is begging to be released, but he can't allow it. They just need to calm down and talk.

Can't they just listen for once?

As if in answer, England huffs and turns his gaze from Prussia to Canada. "He saved you?"

"Uh, yeah," Canada says with a weak smile. "Before Germany could come in and take over, Prussia made sure I got out of Berlin."

England looks like he’s swallowing a bug, but he manages to nod his head toward Prussia. "Then you have my thanks, Gilbert."

"Keh," Prussia scoffs. "So let me talk to my brother as a way of thanks."

"I don't think so."

"Come on, Arthur. What's the deal?"

"I told you not to call me by that name."

"Oh so you can use mine but I can't use yours?"

"Exactly."

"Why the  _ fuck _ does that make sense?"

"Because -"

At this point, Canada’s body moves on its own. Prussia is still standing in front of him from earlier, and he's waving his arms around as he snaps at England. He's clearly frustrated, but beyond that, Canada’s eyes can't leave the bandages on the pale arm. They're coming loose. 

And it would just be  _ so _ easy to convince England if -

Before the thought really solidifies, before he can really think through the consequences, Canada springs forward enough to snatch Prussia’s arm. The other man stops shouting back at England, but Canada refuses to look at him. Instead, he works to undo the bandage wrap so he can pull it back and show the tattooed numbers on his arm. Hold them up for England to see.

"Look, England," Canada breathes. "Just shut up and look. Please. This is what happened to Prussia after he helped rescue me. These numbers are proof he was in one of the camps."

Both of England’s thick eyebrows raise. "Camps?"

Canada nods. "Yeah. We found him in a concentration camp, which means you  _ can't  _ blame him for everything."

"My god," England breathes, arms dropping to his side in disbelief as he looks to Prussia. "Gilbert…"

When Canada looks up to see Prussia’s reaction, he feels a little bad for shattering the man's pride - even if it was for his own good. The albino nation has his eyes closed and his jaw clenched, his face turned off to the side as if he could avoid them both. His arm is frozen, his body tense, and Canada lets go with a quiet apology. 

England clears his throat. "Well. Then I suppose I'll take you to see Germany after all. That's the least I could do."

Canada feels his face break into a relieved smile. "Thank you, England."

The super power nation waves his hand in the air. "Wait outside. I have some business to finish first."

"Right," Matthew says, gently grabbing Prussia around his wrist and pulling him toward the exit. "Come on, Gil."

The other nation is quiet and unresponsive, even though he follows dutifully. Matthew chews the inside of his cheek, unable to keep himself from worrying. Maybe he went too far after all. Does that count as breaking trust? But he was able to convince England to do what Prussia wanted, so…

So...

Why is his heart so heavy?

~!~

Germany sits on a cot in a small room and stares at his shaking hands. He asks himself how it could have gone so wrong. How could he have lost himself? Having pushed everyone away, having lost them all, he has now lost the war.

And there's no doubt it's going to be worse this time around. After everything he's done, everything he's caused, there's no way the Allies will let him off easy. Considering the last reparation requirements for the last major war, Germany feels sick just thinking about what they may do this time.

What of his brother? He flinches just at the thought, clenching his hands amid scars of terrible torture he's  _ responsible for _ , and hangs his head. Gilbert is never going to forgive him. Can he even call him brother anymore? 

_ How could I do that? How come I didn't listen? To him  _ **_or_ ** _ Italy? _

Oh, yes, Italy has left him, too. Having problems at home, fighting his own crazed leader, Italy gave up and sided with the Allies, leaving Germany to defend from all sides by himself. Not to mention what Japan may still be dealing with in the Pacific. 

_ It's my fault. It's all my fault _ …

Movement draws Germany's attention to the door of his small room. It's more of an old storage room that England seems to have tossed him into, considering the piles of sealed boxes against the walls and the lack of anything else besides the army cot. He supposes he should be glad that his temporary holding cell isn't in Russia's control, despite the fact that the larger nation crashed through Berlin first. 

Recoiling from the memory, Germany instead focuses on the doorway and gapes at the figure who walks into the room. Silvery white hair, dark red eyes, and pale skin with a mess of bandages wrapped around his arm, Prussia looks worse than he's ever seen him. At first Germany flinches back, but then the realization of  _ why  _ his brother looks so torn up and distraught makes Germany's breath stop short in his throat.

Even the smile the albino nation gives is plastered on with so much obvious fake cheer. "Yo, West. Been a while, huh?"

Germany can't find words. His tongue is trapped at the roof of his mouth and his heart pounds in his ears. His mouth is dry, his hands are shaking again, and he can't meet the gaze so he turns his face and stares at the ground instead.

Gilbert sighs and walks forward into the cramped room. Germany flinches back as the other nation sits beside him on the cot, pulling his legs up like he’s making himself comfortable. He spares a glance to his brother, frowning at the ease with which Gilbert crosses his legs on the cot and leans back against the wall, arms also crossed in front of him. It's a mask. It has to be. The body language says Prussia is tense and guarded, even as his eyes slip closed to no doubt join Germany in avoidance of meeting gazes.

Silence stalks through the room, between them, an aching wall that exists and refuses to budge. Germany isn’t sure what he can say. He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t think it’ll be enough. Nothing will be enough. After what he’s done - what he’s done to Gilbert, his  _ brother _ , of all people - there’s no way anything he  _ says _ will ever be enough. It’s tense and awkward just sitting next to him, and he tortures himself internally for eons, choking on the smoke of a broken relationship.

Until…

Gilbert sighs into that smokey air. “I forgive you.”

Ludwig spins to face him, eyes wide, but his brother still has his eyes closed. So he swallows the self inflicted hatred in his throat and tries a word. “What?”

Red eyes appear and glance toward him, the fake smile stretching wide across the pale face. “I said I forgive you. Your monster is a terrible force to be reckoned with, huh?”

“My -” Germany swallows and shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run through the sweaty bangs hanging across his forehead. “My monster?”

“Yeah, you know,” Prussia says. “Mine comes up in battle, probably since I was born in the midst of crusading and all that. Yours…”

Germany is already shaking his head. It feels like an excuse. He can’t blame all those bad things on some twist of being a nation. It doesn’t seem right. Not to all the people who have died. All the civilians that he’s murdered through his actions.

A wrenching twist settles in his gut and his hands are trembling again. Being away from his country is a blessing in disguise. All the emotions of his people are too much to deal with right now. So much shame, so much disgust. It hurts. It hurts just remembering it all. 

“West,” Prussia says with another sigh. “I tried to warn you.”

“I should have listened to you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

He winces at the stark honesty, but, hey, that’s his brother. That’s what Gilbert does. He’s honest and blunt, except when it comes to himself. Of course he would go the  _ I told you so _ route. 

And Germany is sure he deserves it. Gilbert is right. His brother tried to warn him before things got too bad, but by then it was already too late, wasn’t it? Maybe they could have pulled out before things got too insane, but…

But does that matter now? What’s done is done. He’s sent so many to their deaths. So many to those camps. So many suffering and dying  _ now _ . His own  _ brother _ had to sit in that filth and deal not only with the physical abuse but the mental abuse of being a nation around so much suffocation. 

“I’m sorry,” Ludwig chokes out, tears hitting his eyes and in danger of falling. “I’m so  _ so _ sorry.”

“Mm,” Gilbert hums. “I know.”

His trembling hands come up to press against his eyes, fighting the tears, but the emotion is drowning him. Germany has so much to answer for, and he’s worried about what they’re going to do. He’s heard the rumors from his guards, from England. Heard that there might be something worse in the works than any of them could ever imagine.

Something worse for Prussia, for the nation, and what will it do to his brother? 

“ _ Bruder _ , I -”

“There you go!” Gilbert says suddenly, slapping his shoulder. “Been waiting for years to hear you say that again.”

“H-huh?”

When he lifts his gaze, he finds red eyes sparkling in the dim lighting of the storage room. “We’re brothers. I forgive you, even if it still hurts and a part of me still isn’t sure I should, but you know what, I raised you so I’m sure some of it is my fault. I should’ve better prepared you for the monster side that can come out in us.”

“N-no,” Ludwig stutters, tears tracking down his cheeks. “Don’t take the blame. It’s not -”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, whatever,” Gilbert says as he leans in and presses their foreheads together. “You’re always such a big crybaby, West. It’s good to see you again. We’ll come out of this together. Like we always do. All right?”

Words die in his throat. He’s not sure what to say. He doesn’t deserve this. His brother. Forgiveness. He doesn’t deserve any of it. 

Especially if the worst is yet to come for Prussia. How can he convey those fears? How can he apologize for what  _ might _ happen? Words fail him so he does the only other thing that comes to mind. He reaches out and pulls his older brother into a hug and clings and cries like he’s a child again and he’s worrying over his big brother who goes off to the war front and comes home with wounds all for his sake. 

This time, Gilbert’s wounds all mostly internal, and inflicted by Germany himself, but he still holds on and seeks comfort in the one person he can right now. With Italy gone, he doesn’t have anyone else. 

And he’s so lucky to have a brother stand by him even after everything he’s done. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Ludwig whispers. “Somehow. I promise.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prussia learns some devastating news]

11

Prussia doesn’t like having to leave West on his own, but the great  _ British Empire _ gives him no choice. For some reason, Arthur is insistent on keeping them separate, and since he lost there’s not much Gilbert can do to change it. Except complain, maybe, but he’s already fuming when he sees Canada outside waiting with Arthur. 

A hand goes to his wrist and scratches at the bandages hiding the numbers on his arm. God, he doesn’t really want to even  _ think _ about them, or anything that reminds him of the camps, but now he can  _ feel _ the pity coming from Arthur. Which pisses him off. Matthew  _ and _ Arthur giving him looks of pity is more than he can bear. He still can’t believe Canada revealed the sick truth like that, even if it was successful in getting him the needed conversation with his brother. It still pisses him off.

So he growls and puts his hands behind his head to appear as casual as possible while they lead him out of the building and around town. Sweat beads on the back of his neck as they walk, but he ignores it in favor of checking out the state of London. It’s a mess. Because of him and West. Buildings absolutely demolished, whole families out on the street with nowhere to go. Thanks to the war, the bombings.

He probably would care more if he didn’t remind himself that his own capital has been wrecked just as much. Hell, a whole  _ city _ was destroyed in all the bombing raids. So why should he care about the English people? 

That’s war. Bloody and unfair and terrible to view in the aftermath. But that’s just how it  _ is _ . How it’s always been. 

Whispers catch his attention and Prussia changes his focus to the two nations in front of him. Canada is murmuring to Arthur. Something about “letting him know,” which Arthur sounds vehemently against. Prussia scowls. Secrets everywhere. From people he used to trust. Though he understands why Arthur doesn’t want to speak to him much anymore after the war, it’s hard to forgive Canada for shattering his pride back there. 

And now Canada is trying to fight for him again. 

It just ticks him off. He doesn’t need any help. This is what’s normal at war time. He doesn’t need to know anything until the winning nations come together and work out something for their bosses to sign. Some agreement that he’s going to have to deal with no matter how he feels. Whatever it may be, Prussia doubts he’ll have any real say in his side, and West will probably agree to whatever he has to. He’s already signed his surrender, now comes the nasty part where the nations barter for how to make them pay for it.

Well, maybe the jerks have learned their lesson about pushing the German brothers too far on that front. The reparations required for the first World War had been too much and it had driven them into such a state… Pushed West into releasing his monster.

With a frown, Prussia shudders and drops his arms to his sides. God, he  _ hopes _ they’ve learned their lesson. He doesn’t want to have to stand against West if another boss comes running up into the ranks and pushing all kinds of crazy shit again. For his part, he’s going to be more aware of how these humans can manipulate things. He’ll be better at protecting West, better at not letting his own fantasies of the past run away from him.

“Hmph,” Arthur says as they arrive at the gate of a large mansion, “Well, Gilbert, this is where you’ll be staying with Canada watching over you.”

“Hah?” He blinks then looks over at the mansion, then back to Arthur. “Are you serious?”

Thick eyebrows raise. “Is that not satisfactory?”

“You put me up in here,” Prussia growls. “And yet West is in -”

“Germany will be transferred soon,” Arthur says while rolling his eyes. “You really should care more about yourself anyway.”

Now it’s Prussia’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

Silence greets him in response. Well, fine then. He didn’t want a response anyway. Let them continue to be vague. He has better things to think about, like why he’s been shoved into such a huge ass place instead of put in a tiny cell like the last time.

It’s two stories, but it covers a lot of ground. Lots of brick. Almost as big as West’s place back home. Not as fancy in the gardening or paint, which looks to be chipping. Do they even keep this place up? Keh. What is this? Like some home for the lost and desperate? A place for the homeless? An orphanage? 

Ah, when he thinks along those lines, it begins to make more sense. He’ll probably have one single room to call his own and not be allowed anywhere else. Heh. That sounds familiar.

He glances to Canada and smirks. “So I guess things really have switched around, huh? My turn to be your prisoner. Am I getting your room?”

_ Like you had mine. _

But instead of answering him, Matthew looks a little off balance. He’s shifting his position, hopping gently from one foot to the other. He’s even biting his lip - something Prussia finds himself staring at because he remembers kissing those lips and seeing such abuse done to them makes him want to reach out and take Matthew in his arms and lick those lips before kissing and -

He shakes his head. No, he’s supposed to be upset at Matthew here. Hot or not, the other nation betrayed him earlier. When he pulled the bandage off and revealed the numbers on Prussia’s arm, that was the moment where Gilbert decided he would pull back from the idea of dating Canada. At least…

At least for now. Until he got more than a mumbled string of apologies from the other nation. That was a breach of trust after all. He can’t forgive those too easily.

_ Like you forgave Germany? _

The thought in his mind makes him scowl. It’s tough to admit, but his internal voice here has a point. If he can forgive West for sending him to a camp of all things, then why can’t he forgive Canada for revealing it? The other nation only did it because he was trying to get Arthur to cave, and as much damage as it did to his pride, Prussia has to admit - it worked. 

“Gil, they’re -” Canada bites his lip again and Prussia raises an eyebrow. “They’re going to -”

“Canada,” Arthur’s voice comes out harshly. “Don’t you dare.”

Blue-violet eyes glance to England then immediately switch back to Prussia as the younger nation finally blurts out what he’s been itching to say. “They’re going to abolish you!”

“Canada!”

Arthur’s exclamation sounds muffled to Prussia’s ears. He feels like he’s heard this warning before, like he’s laughed it off before, maybe back when he had Canada in his little town house of a dwelling. But now it’s impossible to laugh off, because  _ Arthur _ is acknowledging it as fact, too.  _ Arthur _ has been keeping it a secret. His old friend from way back when, someone he’s had an understanding with in the past even if they go back and forth with each other in recent history, someone he called  _ friend _ .

Words try to form on his tongue, but they refuse to escape. He can’t think straight. Abolished? What would that mean? How is he supposed to react? What - what would happen to  _ him? _

Then the anger fills him and he spins on Arthur, grabbing the other nation by his shirt collar and hissing into his face. “You wouldn’t  _ dare _ . It doesn’t  _ work _ like that. You -”

“Unhand me, Gilbert,” the other nation says, green eyes hard and steady. “It’s your own fault, though I wanted to keep it a secret.”

“Wha - what?” He growls. “What do you mean it’s my own fault? You can’t just abolish another nation like that! That’s not how this works!”

“We can and we  _ must _ .”

He refuses to let this go. In fact, he pushes Arthur up against the nearby gate and bares his teeth. “You  _ can’t _ . What, are you going to make some kind of resolution? Some fancy paper that all the others sign and just  _ write me off?  _ Like I don’t matter? Like nothing we had is -”

“Gilbert,” Arthur intones, reaching down to force him to remove his hands. “You raised Germany. And your obsession with your glory days is what inevitably led to all of this.”

It feels like an anvil has just smashed him into the ground. He steps back, reaching up to his neck as if he can force himself to breathe. Then his hands go to his hair and he’s clinging at the mess on top of his head. 

It can’t be true. They can’t actually be thinking of abolishing him.  _ Him _ . Sure, he raised Germany, but that’s - that’s not - it’s not his fault. Is it? 

Is this really how it’s going to end?

~!~

Matthew wants to say something. Watching Gilbert freak out over the news hurts him in ways he can barely describe. After all he’s learned of the albino nation, after seeing Gilbert  _ in a camp _ , it hurts to think that the other Allied Nations still want to take him out. But there’s nothing any of them can really do, is there? 

England won’t see reason. Even after seeing the numbers on Gil’s arms and hearing that Germany put his own brother away like that, England still blames Prussia. Though it’s more likely to say England’s  _ boss _ blames Prussia. And his people agree so there’s no fighting it, is there? Not while Arthur stays in his capital city…

Eventually, Gilbert calms down enough to be led away and England bids them good day. Doing what he can, Matthew gently prods the albino nation past the gate and into the big house that he calls his “home away from home.” This is where all of the colonies and commonwealth members of the British Empire stay whenever they need to visit London. There’s plenty of room to fit all of them if need be, but such a thing is rarely ever necessary.

So for now, it’s just going to be Canada and Prussia. Too bad there’s an awkwardness between them that refuses to go away. Matthew assumes it’s partially because of what he did back in England’s office, and it’s hard to find a reason to be upset at Prussia for being upset. Because Matthew  _ did _ kind of step out of line there, even if it was for the best…

With a sigh, he opens the front door and gestures for Gilbert to walk in first. “Here you go. This is where all of the British Empire, uh, well, where we stay when we’re in town, but it’s just us for now so, so you can pick whatever room you like.”

Oh, mapleleaf, his stuttering is absurd now. Why is he so nervous? Is it the way Gilbert is glancing around, turning back to him with a lazy, distant gaze in his red eyes? His heart really can’t take all of this tension. He needs to break it somehow. 

“Nice place,” Gilbert murmurs. “And you’re really letting me stay here?”

“Yeah,” Matthew mutters back, closing the door behind him. “I, uh, while you look for a room to settle into, do you want me to make some tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“Coffee.” Gilbert’s response is so quick it takes him by surprise. “Definitely coffee.”

Matthew smiles. “Okay, I’ll make some coffee, then.”

Red eyes glance over him then move away, pale hands finding pockets as the albino takes a few steps toward the staircase off to the right. The kitchen is in the opposite direction, but Matthew hangs around for a moment, wanting to make sure Prussia finds his way to a room without any difficulty. With the way the other nation goes right for the stairs, Matthew’s pretty sure he likes upstairs bedrooms, or is at least used to that, and he’s reminded of the townhouse where he was held - Prussia’s place, Prussia’s  _ room _ . 

A loud growling sound echoes through the empty entryway. Gilbert clears his throat, and Matthew holds back a laugh at the light blush on the man’s pale face. 

“Hungry?”

“Y-yeah,” Gil mutters. “Very.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” he mutters back, suddenly lighting up at a new thought. “Oh! If there’s maple syrup here then I’ll make us some pancakes!”

His excitement is apparently enough to make the albino quirk a small smile and Matthew feels his heart beat normally at the sight. It’s been so long since he saw a smile reach those red eyes. This one doesn’t really get there, but it’s the closest he’s come yet. So it’s nice. 

“Right,” Gilbert murmurs. “You did say something about loving that maple stuff, huh?”

Unable to hold back, Matthew nods vigorously, feeling his one stray curl bouncing around above him. “Yeah. It’s really good. You’ll love it. I’m sure you will.”

“We’ll see.”

Silence falls between them and Matthew frowns, staring at the tile floor. Things are still awkward, the tension still too thick. He doesn’t know what else to do. Maybe he should just leave Prussia alone to work through everything on his own, but for some reason he really doesn’t want to leave Gilbert alone for too long. He barely wants to separate and let the man go search for a room without following him around.

But there’s no choice. They’re adults, and Prussia has been through a lot in the past. He’ll survive for a couple of minutes more alone. 

So Canada waits until Gilbert climbs the stairs, and then he turns around and heads toward the kitchen in the opposite direction. A carpeted hallway, a glance at a tall window with a set of curtains that are fraying and need replacing or repair, and then he’s walking on tile once more as he slides into the kitchen. 

Everything is as he remembers it, too. The island in the center with tall chairs set around it like the setup at a bar. The refrigerator is off on one side with a long, empty, off-white counter and a sink in the center. Stove and oven are on another wall surrounded by small counters and drawers galore. Canada heads to the pantry in one of the corners and immediately begins his search for the maple syrup. He doubts there’s any open in the fridge. The other nations don’t really go for it the way he does, and most of them went home a long time ago.

He practically giggles in excitement when he finds not one, not two, but  _ three _ bottles of maple syrup hiding in the pantry. On top of everything he needs for making pancakes - after a quick glance in the fridge to double check for milk and eggs, of course. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. If nothing else, pancakes should help pull Gilbert out of his funk. It’s always worked for Canada, at least. A good pancake breakfast - or lunch, or dinner - and he’d be smiling like normal in no time.

After setting everything up to prepare for cooking - and setting up a pot of coffee to brew - Canada races up the stairs to find Prussia. He’s grinning wide as he pokes his head in different doors. One of these has to be where the albino nation is hiding. Oh, he hopes Prussia is excited about this as he is, or at least enough to come downstairs and watch him. It’s always more fun to cook with someone else in the kitchen, after all. 

He hears a voice mumble, “Fritz, I don’t wanna disappear. I’m not ready.”

And immediately he freezes, feeling his heart skip a beat. Maybe it’s not appropriate to be this excited. Prussia’s just learned he’s going to be abolished. Or that the nations in charge are working out a way to make it happen. And there’s nothing any of them can  _ do _ about it. Being excited about maple syrup and pancakes seems a little...wrong now.

Still, he’s come up here, and the coffee will be ready soon so -

Canada steps into the doorway and knocks on the door. “Uh - it’s uhm - the coffee, I mean it’s - it’ll be ready soon.”

Prussia sits up on the bed, which is only one of the blue things in the room, and offers a weak smile. “Right. And did you find anything for food?”

“Oh! Yeah!” He tries to keep his excitement down, but he can’t help it. “There’s plenty of maple syrup so I was thinking I’d make you some pancakes!”

Red eyes stare back at him over the unseen gulf that exists between them now. Canada shuffles back a little at the look. Gilbert  _ has _ been slowly recovering from the camp horrors since he’s been moved away from his suffering people, but now his eyes look even more dead than when he first saw the albino nation in that terrible spot. The news of what England’s planning must have hit him harder than he expected.

Which hurts, because Canada only let out the secret for his sake. He’d warned him before, but Prussia hadn’t taken him so seriously then or let him continue talking about it. Now… Now England had...

“Well then,” Gilbert states with a forced smile, climbing from the bed and throwing his hands into his pockets. “I can’t wait to taste your favorite Canadian delicacy.” 

With a forced smile of his own, Canada turns around and leads the way back to the kitchen, saying over his shoulder. “You could try the maple syrup on its own if you want, but I think you should wait until you can put it on the pancakes.”

“Heh. Might not want to shove something so sweet into my mouth right now anyway.”

“Oh come on,” Canada huffs. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Prussia groans behind him and he has the vague sense that he’s missed something that the other nation had been throwing down. Was he trying to use the food as some kind of weird innuendo? Matthew still hadn’t caught onto everything Gilbert would jokingly sexualize. Some of it would make him blush, but - maple syrup? Really?

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Canada walks into the kitchen and finds an apron to tie around his body. It’s something basic, white and red, because none of them have thought to add another one to the house. Strangely enough. How long have they been coming here? He sighs at the thought. Maybe he’ll bring one from home next time.

Glancing over his shoulder, he notes how Prussia finds a spot at the island. Pulling back one of the tall bar stools, he plops into place and then sets his elbow on the counter almost immediately, eyes training on Canada. So Matthew offers a weak smile and turns around to focus on cooking pancakes. He already has all the ingredients after all, so this shouldn't take too long.

Then maybe they’ll be able to bridge the gap between them. Maple syrup has been known to be a miracle worker for him before, so he holds onto the hope and puts all his focus into cooking something Prussia will never forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes! Finally!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Canada makes pancakes for Prussia, who gets his first taste of Canadian maple syrup.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I predict 3 more chapters. Next one will have smut.

12

Sitting at the kitchen island, Prussia sighs and then makes a face at himself for being such a pathetic mess right now. With an elbow on the counter, palm on his cheek, he watches Canada work around the kitchen and tries not to imagine the past. Even the recent past comes to him - the stuff from when _he_ was the one cooking for Canada. 

Gilbird roosts in his hair, probably sleeping like the lazy bird he is, but Prussia hardly notices. The bird’s been with him for years, too far back in his memories to count, and having that familiar presence in his hair is like a balm to soothe his wounds. He shouldn’t call Gilbird lazy, really. The yellow chick has done a lot for him, especially recently, leading Canada to him in the midst of that awful place. 

With a grimace, Prussia drops both arms to the island and rests his chin on top of them, eyes still watching Canada work. The smell of coffee fills the room and he shuts his eyes, taking in the nice aroma that he’s been without for so long. It’s amazing how something so simple can make him feel more comfortable and relaxed, even when he’s fighting the urge to cave into himself because of the news that one of his friends is working to _abolish_ him.

Abolish.

What will that mean? If they go through with it, will he disappear? He hates thinking of it but he can’t stop himself. Usually nations disappear by slowly losing relevance. He knows it’s inevitable with his current state in life, as he assumes it might be possible for someone like Romano, too, but that day has always been so far in the future as not to be worrisome. He may not have his own nation like in the good ole’ days anymore, but he’s still _Prussia_. He still represents a collection of people that consider themselves Prussian. What will happen to those people if he’s written off in a document? Will they still insist on being Prussian or will he fade away the minute the document is signed?

With a small groan, Gilbert buries his face in his arms and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want to think about it. He really, really doesn’t want to think about any of it right now. There’s not much he can do and there’s probably not much Germany can do, either, even if his brother is back to normal. After what they’ve done, what they’ve allowed…

The world has a right to hate them.

“Hey,” the voice above him belongs to Canada, which is followed by a chirp from Gilbird, so Prussia pulls back and looks up, ignoring the sting in his eyes. “The coffee’s done. I wasn’t sure if you liked anything else in it so I just left it -”

“Black is good,” Prussia says quickly, forcing a grin as he grabs the mug held out to him. “Coffee doesn’t need anything else added to it. Hopefully it’s a good brand.”

“Heh. I don’t know about that,” Canada murmurs. “I usually go for tea, especially when I’m in England.”

“Bah.”

It’s nice to have a conversation this inane. The world is falling apart around him, but he can still force a smile for a stupidly simple topic. It sort of reminds him of the days when their circumstances were reversed and Prussia was the one playing host to Canada. Heh. Playing host when he should have been torturing for information.

But he _likes_ this small talk. It’s a good distraction. It helps keep his mind off of the abolishing thing. With a small grimace, he blows at the steam coming from the coffee and takes in a deep breath. The scent is even better up close. He could fall into that smell and never wake up, just like he could fall into the nostalgia of better days and -

“Oh. The pancakes will be ready soon.”

At Canada’s comment, he glances up at smirks. “Can’t wait.”

Matthew’s eyes move away from his, toward the stove where he’s got the pancakes cooking. The other nation seems to be a little tense and awkward, so Prussia sighs and tries to think of something to calm him down. 

Lifting his mug to his lips, his own gaze finds the bandages wrapped around his arm and he remembers he was angry and supposed to be ignoring the Canadian nation. Supposed to be doing a lot of things, actually. But here he is finding comfort in the little things Matthew keeps doing for him. Guess he really shouldn’t hold it over the other man’s head anymore. 

“Don’t worry too much, by the way.”

Matthew turns back to him, the curl on his head bobbing at the movement. “Huh?”

Prussia grimaces. “What you did in front of Arthur. Don’t worry about it. I’m not happy that he had to find out, but I guess...I guess it really was inevitable and it did convince him.”

“Oh. That. Uhm. I’m sorry.”

He narrows his eyes. “I said don’t worry about it. You really don’t have to apologize anymore.”

“Oh, eh…” Canada bites his bottom lip and shrugs. “Sorry?”

Prussia stares at him for a moment. Matthew isn’t exactly comfortable in this situation either, is he? Honestly, he can’t imagine anyone would be, unless they wanted to mock him for losing the war and being slated to be abolished eventually. But Canada isn’t like that. _Matthew_ isn’t like that. 

This cute younger nation really does care for an enemy. Sure, they kissed back at Prussia’s place all that time ago, and they had some awkward mentions of continuing a relationship, but after where he’s been, Gilbert is surprised the man _still_ wants to be nice to him. After all he’s seen and heard…

Well, Prussia would like to pursue a relationship, but that’s kind of completely off the table now. If he’s going to disappear, there’s no point. With a grimace, he pushes those thoughts away _again_ and focuses on the Canadian nation. The man turned back around when Prussia didn’t continue the conversation and he’s busy with those pancakes. Gilbert hums. 

Words escape his lips as soon as the thought hits his brain. “You have a cute butt.”

Matthew spins around. “Huh?”

“Oh shit,” Prussia says, feeling the heat in his face as he sits up straight and tries to bury himself in his coffee. “Didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“It’s -” Matthew drifts off and Gilbert thinks he’s gone and made an absolute fool of himself, but then the Canadian is at the island counter, passing a plate across to him. “It’s fine.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but then the other nation is holding out a bottle of maple syrup. So Prussia closes his mouth and takes the bottle without a word. This _is_ what Matthew is all excited to show him, after all. Might as well give it a test.

Staring down at the plate of pancakes in front of him, Gilbert hums as he pours a little bit of the maple syrup on the side. He’ll have to taste it first. Wouldn’t want to ruin a whole plate of fluffy pancakes because he doesn’t like the syrup. Even if Matthew swears by the stuff, he’s not going to take any chances.

Sure, he’s reminded of when Fritz handed him potatoes and insisted he try those. And how Gilbert couldn’t believe his monarch was asking him to eat something they’d pulled out of the ground, something that could look so dirty and was probably not healthy in the least. Except, well, as it turned out, potatoes were delicious - and still are. In fact, they became one of West’s favorite foods.

Heh. Wonder what West is eating now. Hopefully Arthur isn’t being an ass and feeding him well, or at least as well as they can considering the state of the world right now.

Shaking those thoughts off, Gilbert grabs a fork and tries a slice of pancake with Matthew’s maple syrup. Flavor explodes on his tongue, the sweetness breaking through any boundary. His eyes widen. It’s - it’s amazing.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, swallowing another slice and reaching for the bottle to drown his pancakes in the stuff. “I think I’m in love.”

Matthew giggles across from him. “Told you it was great.”

Prussia looks up to meet his eyes, swallowing more of the delicious goodness before he speaks. “It’s _awesome_.”

Having something so good on his tongue after so long makes him hum in pleasure. He can’t stop shoveling the pancakes into his mouth, even as he tries to savor each bite. Oh, he’s had pancakes before, but nothing like _this_. 

When his plate is clear, he glances up to Canada, who is still eating - much slower than Prussia’s gusto. “You’re going to have to make these a lot more while I’m stuck here.”

“Oh - uhm - I’ll try,” Canada murmurs, giving a weak smile. “At least for as long as we still have maple syrup. I - uh - didn’t expect you to use so much the first time.”

Gilbert licks his lips. “Couldn’t help it. I told you, didn’t I? I think I’m in love.”

“Yes, you did say that…”

With a grin, Gilbert sets his plate to the side and taps the table with a finger. “So you’re going to have to make a lot more of that if you want to keep my love.”

Blue-violet eyes turn on him almost immediately, the blond curl in Matthew’s hair bouncing against his glasses as the Canadian nation jerks his head up. Words fail to fall between them, but Gilbert does his best to keep his grin. He’s said something stupid, hasn’t he? Running over the words he just said, he bites the inside of his cheek at the realization.

Oh, yeah, did he just confess? Like that? How lame…

Feeling the warmth hit his cheeks, Prussia clears his throat. “Well, uh, I mean, _if_ I could pursue a relationship and all, you’d have to give me more of your Canadian delicacy there to keep me interested. No, wait, that bit was a joke, even if -”

“I would.”

“Huh?”

“Pursue a relationship,” Canada says, his voice surprisingly steady, considering the circumstances. Prussia feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. “Right now. With you.”

His tongue gets stuck to the roof of his mouth. His heart really is going far too fast. He can feel the blood rushing in his ears. His face is hot. He glances to the side, then back up to Matthew. Why is he so unnerved by this topic? Why can’t he focus? 

Oh, right…

“But,” he murmurs, “I’m going to disappear.”

Canada flinches back a little but his eyes never leave Prussia’s own. “You don’t know that for a fact.”

“I’m not sure anything else could happen if they abolish me.”

Oh it hurts to say that out loud. It’s going to hurt for a really long time. He’s feeling dizzy. He needs to go lie down.

Bringing a hand to his head, he tugs on his hair. Gilbird shifts and chirps at him. He glares up at the bird. It’s not nice when your own immortal animal companion is telling you to chill instead of taking your side. Besides, he _is_ chill. He’s calm and collected and not at _all_ thinking about what being abolished will mean.

“It’s never happened before,” Canada says into the awkward atmosphere, reaching across the counter even to grab his other hand. “The whole thing about us abolishing one of our own in a document. It’s never happened. So you _can’t_ know what’ll happen, Gilbert.”

“Heh,” he swallows. “So you want me to be more optimistic about it all, is that it?”

“Well…I think...” Matthew drifts off, then squeezes his hand. “I think you’re too awesome to disappear.”

He can’t help what he does next. His body reacts before his brain can finish sending the thought to him. Sitting up, he reaches out to pull Matthew closer to him. He connects their lips and sighs as the other man, though startled, responds in kind and opens himself for the moment. 

The beautiful, stunning, world-shattering moment. 

Gilbert loses himself in those lips. In the touches of the other nation. He’s climbed on the counter before he can think - again moving first before the thought fully connects. He slides the plates to the side and moves closer, wanting to touch more, wanting to _feel_ more. 

A few more breaths shared between them and his feet are now on the floor. He’s leaning into Matthew, who still sits in a tall chair. They go at it like they’re drunk on the feeling and they don’t want to stop. Well, that much is true. He never wants to stop _this_. He wants to hold it and never let go. 

When he runs a hand up Matthew’s shirt and then tugs at the man’s waistband, the other nation pulls back with a groan. “Gilbert.”

“Hm?” He hums. “That’s my name.”

“Yeah, uhm,” Matthew reaches down and pulls him back from his attempted conquest. “Let’s not - not yet -”

The world rushes back into existence and Gilbert feels his face heat. “Ah. Yeah. Sorry. Guess I got a little too excited.”

Matthew shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Awkward silence stumbles through the air. Gilbird flies around their heads and Prussia spares the yellow chick an exasperated glance. Stupid bird going on about something or other. 

_Tell him how I feel? Why? Like it’s not obvious?_

He glares at the bird’s response and then sets both hands on Matthew’s shoulders. Not that he needs to. Canada is already meeting his eyes and smiling. Of course he knows where this is going, right? Does he really have to come out and say it?

_“You would’ve told Hungary.”_

He freezes and then words fall out of his mouth. “So about that relationship thing. You wanna try it? To hell with me being abolished. You’re right. I can’t give up now. I’m too awesome for that.”

Matthew’s eyes sparkle and Gilbert’s heart pounds in excitement at the response he gets. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

~!~

Canada smiles and hums as he cleans dishes. He’s refused to let Gilbert do anything around the house. He wants to treat the other nation as a guest and not a prisoner, no matter what he technically is right now. Though, he supposes, _technically_ Gilbert is now his boyfriend. Even the thought makes him blush and dance on his feet a little.

A relationship. A real relationship with another nation. No matter the circumstances, he’s happy beyond belief. A few days and the glow hasn’t faded yet. No wonder the humans are always going on about love in their songs and poetry. It really is such a wonderful feeling, dazzling and bright and the only thing on his mind.

A light chuckle brings his attention to the kitchen doorway where Prussia leans against the archway. “You act like a kid who’s never been in love before.”

“Ah -” Canada flushes at being called out so obviously and turns back to the soapy water. “Well, it’s - I’ve never - eh - you’ve been in love?”

Gilbert chuckles again, coming up behind him. “Yeah. It didn’t always pan out to a relationship worth keeping, but yeah, I’ve been here before, so to speak.”

Canada bites his lip as he feels hands come to his hips. He would never have expected Gilbert to be the type to want to touch all the time, but maybe it’s because of all that’s happened to the other nation lately. Maybe he just likes feeling contact with someone who cares, _knowing_ someone else cares. So as awkward as it is, Matthew allows it as he finishes the dishes.

For his part, Gilbert just leans against him and sets a chin on Matthew’s shoulder. The bird flies around them both for a few beats, chirping something that makes Gilbert grunt and cling tighter for a moment. Then the yellow chick is on the counter top, hopping around the rack of drying dishes. Matthew laughs when Gilbird is accidentally splashed and the bird practically squeaks in indignation before flying somewhere safer further down the counter and ruffling his now wet feathers.

“Serves him right,” Gilbert mutters. 

Matthew hums and takes his hands out of the water, pulling the plug on the drain in the process. “Why? What’d he say?”

Gilbert grunts and steps back. “Something ridiculous. Don’t worry about it. He’s always like this.”

“Is he really?”

He turns around with a towel to dry his hands and he faces the red eyes that are glancing around the room. Gilbert really isn’t as forward as he appears - at least not when it comes to his feelings. So he can guess what his bird has been tweeting at him lately, if the other nation’s shy attitude is anything to go by. It’s kind of funny, though. Matthew’s the one that’s supposed to be shy. He’s the one that’s new at this whole real relationship thing.

“Keh,” Prussia grumbles. “What does it matter anyway?”

Matthew pouts. “I guess it doesn’t. I was curious, though.”

A slight pink tint spreads across Gilbert’s white cheeks and Matthew smiles, though the albino nation waves his hand in front of his face. “Whatever. Do you have something fun to do in this house? Besides sitting around talking and wishing we had beer, I mean?”

While he makes a mental note to buy beer the next time he’s out, Matthew gives a shrug in answer to Gilbert’s question. “Maybe. I don’t really keep anything here except books, but the others might have some stuff hanging around.”

“Hm? Where?”

He sets the damp towel to the side and shrugs again. “We’ll have to search.”

Gilbert groans. “Really? It’s a big house, though. They could stash all kinds of things in little places around here.”

“Guess we have to get to searching, then.”

Red eyes land on him and then Gil laughs. “Guess so. All right. I’ll stop complaining. Let’s see what we can turn up.”

With a nod, Matthew and Gilbert split up to comb through every nook and cranny in the house. Prussia’s right, after all. It _is_ a big place. It’s supposed to be able to hold all of the members of the British Empire, though, so it has to be big. He’s not even sure he’s been through it all before; he usually finds his favorite room and calls it a day. 

Just like how Prussia found one room done up in different shades of blue to call _his_ own. He'll have to remember that little detail. Prussia obviously likes the color blue. Does it have to do with his country? Probably. The other nation's uniform had been a different shade from the others, too, during the war. Blue, then. So much around Prussia seems to be blue... Except Germany is the one with blue eyes.

Not that Matthew would complain. He likes those red eyes of Gilbert’s. Such a unique shade because of his albinism. Especially because of how they'd change slightly depending on the light in the room, or even with Gilbert’s emotions. 

He hums and smiles to himself as he opens a closet door in one of the many hallways. Its just full of towels and blankets, so he closes it again. Not much fun involved with something like that, unless Gilbert is one to build blanket forts the way he and America would do when they were younger. He thinks on that, then shakes his head.

No, that would be silly and childish and not something a serious nation would do. 

"Hey, Matthew!"

The voice comes screaming down the hall and he turns in time to get a face full of yellow bird feathers. "Pft. Wha-what?"

Prussia chuckles as Matthew waves the bird away. "Sorry about Gilbird there, but I found something we can play around with if you're interested."

When Gilbert holds up a metal box and shakes it, Matthew raises his eyebrows. "Dominoes? I didn't think you'd be into that game."

"Keh. Not the game. Who plays the game?"

"Australia," Matthew mutters. "But go on."

Red eyes narrow curiously but the albino nation shrugs it off. "Okay. He just lost some awesome points. But anyway, why don't we create some crazy picture with these and then knock it all down when we're done."

Matthew laughs. He can't help it. Here he'd been thinking building blanket forts would be too childish for the awesome Prussia. Apparently, Gilbert had the heart of a child beating inside that scarred chest of his after all. 

"All right," Matthew says with a grin. "Let's see what we can build together."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the fact that this is the longest chapter yet makes up for how long it took to get here. Forgive me. I hope the smut is passable, too. 
> 
> ...thinking 2 chapters and an epilogue now. This one came out a lot longer than I expected, for real.

13

It's the summer of 1946 when Canada forces his way into England’s office. It's been too long since he had a decent discussion with the nation representative of the British Empire and he's become antsy waiting for a good moment. He's started to believe it will never be a good moment. They haven't passed anything regarding Prussia’s nation status, but they haven't let Gilbert go free yet either. 

So here he is. Demanding an explanation. Or hoping to at least.

When he faces the wide eyes of both England and America he freezes in place. Canada never has felt like he's the best at demanding much of anything, even if he has the spirit. Prussia  _ has  _ been rubbing off on him over this past year of their relationship - a nice, slow, steady, comforting relationship - but it's still hard to face down the nation that to this day holds a good amount of power over him. 

“Canada,” England murmurs over thick raised brows, “what are you doing here?”

He clears his throat, takes a breath, then steps in and shuts the door behind him to indicate he’s  _ not _ taking that cue to leave. “We need to talk.”

England frowns. “I’m currently in the middle of talking to your brother.”

This gives Al the opening he needs to snigger in his seat. While America laughs behind his hand, Canada takes the moment to really size up the situation. England is at his desk, looking more put together than he has since the second year of the war. Still a little worse for wear because of the crushing debt in his country, but his brown suit is tidy and his necktie is recently ironed. 

America, on the other hand, sits in a black leather chair with one leg crossed over the other. Somehow Al always manages to look comfortable and upbeat no matter the situation he’s walked into. Then again, Al didn’t show his face much when battling the economic depression before the second world war dragged them all into a further mess. Unlike England, America is wearing casual khakis and his signature bomber jacket barely covering a white oxford shirt, no tie.

Shaking his head, Canada takes a deep breath and lets out his whole entire reason for coming here. “You can’t abolish Prussia.”

Alfred groans and leans against the arm of his chair. “Mattie, come on, we’re in the middle of something else right now.”

“This isn’t about you,” Matthew snaps at his brother, then faces England again. “Please, it’s not Gilbert’s fault all this happened.”

England sighs and leans back in his own chair. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew him as well as I do.”

Al interrupts again before Matthew can get another word in. “Hey, look, can’t y’all do this some other time? We’re not even supposed to make a decision on Prussia for a while yet, so -”

“What do you mean ‘we,’ Al?” Canada turns on his brother with wide eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re against him, too, now.”

Sadly, all he gets from America is a shrug. The other nation doesn’t even seem the least bit concerned about this topic, which makes Canada want to shake him. Hadn’t he been there when they found Gilbert in the camp? Hadn’t he agreed it wasn’t his fault then? Why had he switched to working with England at this? Why were they putting the topic off for so long? Why couldn’t any of them just  _ see? _

A movement out of the corner of his eye shows him England leaning forward and tapping on his desk. The British nation picks up a pen and taps it against a piece of parchment. Obviously, these two had been working on something rather important and not just discussing ideas, but England doesn’t seem quite as perturbed at the interruption or change in topic as Canada had expected. In fact, he looks down right interested in hearing what America has to say about all this.

Fine. Then he’ll change focus to his brother for now.

“Al, come on,” Matthew says. “You saw him, didn’t you?”

America heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I was there in the camp, I know, I know, but that doesn’t mean Artie’s points aren’t valid. The militarism influence and nationalistic pride comes pretty strongly from Prussian ideals, you know.”

“Like you can talk about national pride being a problem.”

Alfred’s eyebrows raise. “What? Pride isn’t bad until it reaches the extent that it did in Germany.”

“But -”

“That  _ does _ come from Prussia, Mattie; his influence caused a lot of problems.”

“But that doesn’t mean Gilbert deserves to disappear for it!”

At this, America finally shuts his mouth and Matthew turns to the representative of the British Empire, only to see England smirking in mirth at America being so dumb struck. Clenching his hands by his side, Matthew takes a breath and reminds himself to keep calm. He won’t get anywhere if he gets mad, though when it comes to talking to Al, he’s always ready to throw something. He’s still amazed that Gilbert could have such a good relationship with his brother, could even  _ mend _ it after everything that had happened; in a way, he’s jealous, too.

But now is not the time to let the differences between him and America get to him. Now that he knows Alfred is part of the same group that will decide Gilbert’s fate, he’s going to do what he can to convince his brother to go easy. Though, apparently, it won’t be a simple thing to manage, and England’s little smirk seems to say it all.

Gritting his teeth, Matthew swallows the bile rising in his throat and nods at England. “You saw the proof, too. Even if the ideals were his influence, Gilbert has suffered enough for what it all turned into, don’t you think?”

England frowned. “No. If he’s not punished severely, he’ll go right back to it in a few years. That’s what he always does. He doesn’t know any different.”

“So you’d really kill another nation?”

Green eyes flash and England stands up. “We can and we should. He’s become a menace.”

“No he hasn’t!” Matthew snaps, slamming his hands on England’s desk. “He isn’t at all -”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me, Canada,” England says, his voice deathly quiet. “And handle yourself better. It feels like Gilbert’s influence is affecting even you now. Maybe I should separate you.”

Ice runs down his spine at the statement. He pulls back, eyes wide. The very threat makes his heart skip a beat and he has to lick his lips to keep from trembling. England could easily separate them, but that’s the  _ last _ thing he wants right now. 

He  _ likes _ being with Prussia. He likes Gilbert. A lot. The longer they pursue a slow-moving relationship, the more comfortable he feels with the albino nation. To be separated in the midst of all this uncertainty... 

“You can’t,” he murmurs. “I like watching over him.”

Al sniggers, still sitting in his chair. “You mean you like  _ him _ .”

Canada turns a glare to his brother. “Shut up, Al.”

“Oh, whoa, so it’s true? You actually  _ do _ like him in that way!”

Gritting his teeth, clenching his hands into fists, Canada resists the urge to throttle his brother. Whether America realizes the truth isn’t the problem here. He can deal with Alfred’s teasing and insufferable attitude, especially considering how he knows Al’s own love secrets. But for Alfred to spout off the truth about Canada and Prussia in front of England right now…

“What?” England says, standing up on cue. “What does that mean, Canada?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not explaining.”

Green eyes narrow as thick blond brows lower. “Don’t you defy me, Canada. What does America mean when he says you like Gilbert ‘in that way,’ hm?”

A scowl crosses his face before he can shake it away. England notices. Canada can tell because the other nation frowns and stiffens. Mapleleaf, he does  _ not _ want to go through this right now. He hadn’t come here to talk about his love life or relationship status or how he truly feels about Gilbert. 

He just wanted to come in here and demand they let Prussia go and forget all the crap about blaming the albino nation for everything wrong Germany did in the war. So much for  _ that _ plan. With a sigh, Matthew glances away. He finds the lush curtains at the window, pulled back and showing the calm day outside; the sun hits his eyes and he blinks away. He’d wanted to keep this secret, but thanks to Al, he didn’t have much of a choice now.

“Gil and I are in a relationship,” Matthew states. “I think I’m in love. So that’s why I don’t want you to do anything drastic like cause him to disappear.”

When he looks back, England’s eyes are wide and stricken. “My god.”

Al, meanwhile, whistles between his teeth. “All right, bro, I’ll do what I can. Wouldn’t want you to lose someone special to you.”

“No,” England says. “No, this cannot happen. Matthew, I’m making arrangements for Gilbert to move somewhere else. This is your last night in the same house as him. He’s corrupted you already.”

“He hasn’t corrupted me!” Canada snaps. “You’re just obsessed with getting back at him because of your people and you won’t leave the nation and think on your own for half a second to realize how -”

“Canada,” England cuts him off, slamming a fist into his own desk and causing both of the brothers to jump. “Leave, now. I’ll talk to you later, once I can remove his influence.”

“Fine!” He shouts, spinning on his heel. “But I’m not helping you pay for the war anymore!”

When he slams the door behind him, he knows he sounds childish but he doesn’t care. Tears are in his eyes as he tries to reconcile the knowledge that he just screwed up Gilbert’s nice lodgings, their nice place together, ignoring the rest of the world in the midst of cleaning up the chaos. He’s  _ ruined _ it. How come every time he tries to help, he’s either ignored or things go in the complete opposite direction? 

Gilbert’s been relying on him this past year. Matthew has been able to figure out that much. He’s not sure if the albino nation  _ really _ has feelings for him, but at this point he doesn’t care. Gilbert needs someone to cling to and being torn away from him is going to  _ hurt _ . Whatever England does with Prussia, Matthew won’t let their time together end like this. If Prussia is going to be abolished and is going to disappear, that would make this the last night they could be together  _ forever _ .

And he just can’t let it end on a sour note. He has to give Gilbert something loving, something to make sure the nation  _ knows _ he’s loved, because so much of what Prussia spouts these days feels like forced bravado for the sake of the nation he’s losing. Well. He’ll make this night one to remember, to carry with him if he  _ does _ disappear into the place that nations go when they die, if there even is one.

He shakes his head. No. He can’t fall into that thinking. He has to be optimistic. He’ll see Gilbert again. But still, tonight can be special anyway. He’ll make sure of it.

~!~

Prussia is busy building a massive artistic design of dominoes on the floor when Canada returns home. He barely spares a glance toward the front door, knowing Matthew will find him eventually. Instead, he puts down one more domino in the perfect position as slowly and carefully as possible, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in focused concentration. This one is going to be the most awesome yet. 

He’s pretty sure he’s gotten everything lined up just right. He’s had months to practice, after all. Always building one thing or another while Matthew leaves to attend to duties elsewhere, to acquire food, to help the people. While Prussia wishes he could lend a hand with the people of London as well, he knows his presence wouldn’t be as welcomed if a certain other nation ran into him out there. After all, he’s supposed to be a prisoner.

Even if it’s already been a year since the war ended. He can’t imagine Germany is still here. He’s heard rumors that they’re already setting him up to cleaning duty in his own nation. The people there have a lot of work to do, and Gilbert also wishes he could lend his aid to his own country - or the people that he represents at least. But again, he’s stuck here, because no decision has yet to be made on his nation status and they’re holding him captive until that all important discussion is held, apparently.

So he wastes his days away in this large mansion and tries not to remember the days when he lived in a castle. Tries not to think of his glory days. He loves his past, but that’s what led to all this in the first place. Having his journals to go through would have been nice - if they aren’t piles of burned scrap under the rubble of his old townhouse - but he’s made do with a new set to write in while here. Matthew has been kind enough to hand him almost whatever he asks for, and Gilbert has done his best not to throw fits about his confinement since he knows it’s not Canada’s fault.

One more domino set up, Gilbert grins and reaches for another. This is going so well, he can’t wait to see the end result. Just a few more and it’ll be perfect. Then he’ll show the best design yet to Canada and watch the man’s eyes light up in wonder and excitement. Much better emotions than what Prussia feels so often these days, but if he can pretend to be happy by making someone else happy, then it’s fine.

“Gil.”

The sudden call of his name makes him jerk a bit and his hand shakes the domino between his fingers just enough to make the closest domino fall over, which leads to the chain reaction he’d been dreading this whole time. “ Scheiße ! So close!”

He stands up and watches the dominos fall, doing his best to admire what he had managed to accomplish at the very least, grinning at the sight of the Prussian flag slowly showing itself with each new wave. He sets his fists at his waist and laughs uproariously at the sight of Matthew’s face. Canada can’t seem to figure out what reaction to give, so Gilbert steps over his domino art and claps the man on the shoulder.

“It’s awesome,” he says, “isn’t it?”

Matthew blinks, then gives him a smile. “Sure. Did I mess you up?”

Prussia shrugs. “A little. I was almost done, but the result still looks awesome, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Hah. All right then.”

Gilbert frowns. The Canadian nation is a little quiet. Usually when Prussia is showing off something, Matthew goes along with him and either teases him for his silly antics or asks how much time it took or, well, any number of things. Now he’s just quiet and standing there as if he’s not really in the real world right now.

Searching his mind, Gilbert realizes the man had said something about talking to England. So things must not have gone as well as he’d hoped, if that look was anything to go by. Probably something to deal with  _ him _ , too, since Matthew couldn’t leave well enough alone when it came to the whole abolishment question. 

Damn, and he’d been in such a good mood, too.

“Okay,” he groans, sliding his hands into the pockets of the dark pants. “What happened?”

Matthew turns to him and the blue-violet gaze flinches back. “I messed up.”

“Tch. Not likely.”

“No, I really did,” Matthew says, rubbing the back of his head. “I was supposed to help you out, but I ended up...England says he’s going to separate us starting tomorrow.”

“Hah?”

The shocked exclamation is all that manages to break from his lips at the news. Sure, this isn’t as terrible as learning his nation is set for future abolishment, but it still hurts. Had he gotten too comfortable living with Matthew? Possibly. Now at the thought of leaving Canada and having to suffer in silence among whatever guards he’s given, Prussia can’t help but grimace and pull away.

He glances down at the incomplete Prussian flag on the floor - the art he’d made with dominos after so many attempts - and he feels his hands clench into fists within his pockets. The war is over and still he sits here in limbo, waiting for the inevitable. He’s been clinging to Matthew in this dismal time, whether the Canadian realizes it or not because it’s been in the subtle things. After all, it wouldn’t be like him to make it obvious that he needs someone - even if they’re supposed to be in a relationship now. 

Prussia just isn’t the type to go to someone else when his problems get to be too much to bear, but Canada has been there anyway. This constant reassuring presence standing beside him and letting him work things out as he needs to in whatever way he wants. Now because of Arthur being a controlling freak, that is all about to go away. Of course he’s not sure what to say, or even think now, especially because of how sudden the proclamation hits.

"I'm sorry," Canada murmurs. "I tried to help and I -"

Prussia waves him off. "Hey, don't do that. You apologize too much as it is."

"But this -"

Gilbert pulls his chin up and smirks. "This is the natural fallout of the war. We've been lucky enough that he left you with me in the first place. Shouldn't have expected it to last, I guess."

"Yeah, but…" Canada says, and Prussia wants to reach out and force that frown to flip back to the smile he likes so much; he holds back, of course. "It's so sudden."

Forcing a grin, Gilbert shrugs. "Whatever. That's how a lot of things happen. Best we can do is drink to our last night together."

He turns to make his way to the kitchen, leaving the dominoes on the floor. They’ll clean up later. Right now, he wants a beer. Even if it's not a good German beer, alcohol will help dull his senses enough to stop caring so much. He shouldn't have cared so much in the first place. Didn't this happen last time he fell in love?

Having it all ripped away because time marches on despite his protests…

Ah, well. Nothing for it but to cling to the hope of better days, even if that hope looks smaller than ever before because of this talk of being abolished. 

_ Shit. _

~!~

Being drunk with Prussia is such a wonderful experience that Canada forgets to keep any sense of reason once the first beer is in his system. From that point onwards, he's not sure what exactly happens and what is drunk imagination working in his memories. He knows that Gilbert sings a few disgraceful inappropriate songs, which make him laugh. He knows Gilbert makes some food at some point, and there's water and more beer to wash it all down. 

The little details elude him completely, except for one: Prussia’s red eyes are dim and lacking the spark of joy he's come to love.

So when Matthew wakes up in the middle of the night, it's with more than a little trepidation. All his plans had gone out the window as soon as he gave into Gilbert’s drinking lust. Now when he quickly surveys the room, he realizes they only have a handful of hours left together before England can rudely tear them apart in the morning. 

He's picking at his bottom lip when he notices something else. This isn't his room. This is most certainly not his usual bed. And he's  _ not _ the only one awake. 

"Gil?" He whispers, his voice a croak. "When did I -? Did we -?"

Red eyes gaze at him from the darkness of a pile of pillows, but then Prussia’s chuckle melts any cold fear in his heart. "No, we didn't do anything inappropriate. Except for that time you were clinging so tightly to me that you pulled my pants down."

"I - I did  _ what? _ "

Prussia’s chuckle becomes a real spurt of laughter. "I'm kidding. You weren't that bad. I'm surprised you're awake now."

Matthew narrows his eyes. "That should be my line. Why are  _ you _ still awake?"

"Pft, you think the awesome Prussia sleeps before 3:00 AM?" 

Gilbert sits up and thanks to the adjustment in Canada’s eyesight to the dim lighting, he's able to see the dark bags under Prussia’s eyes. He wants to believe the albino nation is joking around at such a statement, but now he wonders. How much sleep has Gilbert gotten since he's been here? How much since the war? 

Mapleleaf, why hadn't he ever noticed?

Wait…

“Gil,” he murmurs. “Were you watching me sleep?”

Prussia smirks and gives a light-hearted shrug. “A little. You’re pretty cute, you know.”

Heat rises into his cheeks and he rolls over to hide it in the pillows. “I’m not cute.”

“Are too,” Gilbert says. “Oh. No, I’m sorry. You’re adorable.”

“Would you stop bringing that up? It was one time!”

“It was adorable, though,” Gilbert says, and Matthew turns to look at him with a blank stare, which causes the Prussian to flush. “I didn’t mean to do that, I swear.”

“Uh huh.”

“I swear, Matthew!”

“Right.” 

Rolling his eyes, Matthew buries his face in the soft pillow. It still smells freshly washed, which tells him Gilbert hasn’t been sleeping on this side of the bed even though he’s had the whole thing to himself. Guess he prefers the other side. Or maybe he’s not used to something so huge.

Well, that’s a depressing thought so he shakes it away quickly and pouts into the pillow instead. He would never admit to pouting, but it happens on the rare occasion when he can’t think of how to broach a subject. He’s pretty sure Prussia hasn’t been sleeping well at all and the man hasn’t said a word. It’s so easy to brush off his mental state thanks to the way Gilbert always finds an excuse to laugh or party - or to completely avoid the topic. Is it a pride thing? Maybe. He does recall Prussia mentioning the fact that he doesn’t like pity, so he probably doesn’t talk about his issues because he doesn’t want to face anyone’s eyes when they hear what’s on his mind.

No, his thoughts are going down a depressing road again. He needs to stop.

The mattress shifts and Matthew spares a glance off to the side. Gilbert is laying down again, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. There’s a slight glow from the dim lighting of the room, thanks to the moonlight coming from the window, and it falls perfectly on the ablino’s silvery white hair. Of course his eyes tend to fade around different shades of red, but the light from the moon only makes them appear brighter than normal. 

Matthew can’t look away. 

Gilbert’s skin has its own special shine, too, something the other nation doesn’t really show off much, even now that they’ve been in a relationship  _ for a year _ . Matthew’s thoughts wander down the road of questioning why - but he shoves the curiosity to the side. It would probably only lead somewhere sad, and he doesn’t want that right now. He wants to sit here and admire Gilbert for as long as he can. Sit in his presence and bask in the glow of love - or whatever they have.

After a moment, Gilbert sighs and turns on his side, the glow of moonlight leaving his pale skin and allowing a dark haze to breed in those red eyes. “Now you’re the one staring at me, aren’t you?”

Matthew flushes and hides his face in the pillow, though he does mumble. “Maybe.”

Gilbert chuckles. “Not like it bothers me. You should admire me. I’m awesome, right?”

“Mhm,” he agrees. “Awesome.”

“So are you, you know.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am -”

The playful back-and-forth comes to a quick halt. Prussia grabs his shoulder and flips him around, and Canada realizes that the albino nation is sitting up and hovering over him now. He gulps, his face heating, but before he can ask a question, his thoughts are silenced by the touch of Gil’s lips on his own. 

Warmth fills him to the depths of his heart and he reaches up to wrap arms around the other nation. Fingers toy with the silvery white hair and he presses his palm into the back of Gilbert’s neck to keep him from lifting away. He knows what the kiss is for. He knows what the intentions are. But he doesn’t care. It’s sweet the way Prussia wants to make some point about how Canada shouldn’t put himself down, but maybe instead of lingering on that conversation he can let Gil know that he’s ready to take another step forward in their relationship.

Gilbert sets a hand on Matthew’s shoulder as their kiss continues into heated, desperate territory. So Matthew lifts his hips and manages to brush against Gil’s growing erection. His face heats at the feeling, but Gilbert hisses and breaks the connection of their lips to whisper against his mouth.

“Oh,” Prussia gulps. “ Scheiße.”

“G-Gil,” Matthew stutters, his voice cracking. “Yes. We can -” He licks his lips. “Yes.”

The red gaze in Gilbert’s eyes smolders down to a haze and Matthew shudders pleasantly at the look. Heat has built between them and there’s no mistaking the lust breaking free from his partner. Partner. Yes, they are in a relationship, but he hasn’t felt the urge to say anything deeper than that yet. Now - now he’s ready to commit. 

Commit completely.

Matthew reaches up to the necklace Gilbert always wears, the one usually hidden under his shirts these days. But since Prussia isn’t wearing anything over his chest, the iron cross hangs on its black thread, a reminder that Prussia has received high honors in his own military, that he once was revered among his own people. So many memories, so many stories waiting to be unearthed in so small a thing. When Canada touches the cool metal, he notes the way Gilbert’s breath catches, and when he smiles up at the hovering nation before reaching past that to touch the man’s chest, Gilbert moans for a reason not entirely brought on by lustful emotions.

He runs his fingers along the chest muscles, stopping at the raised scars he finds every so often. A nation can heal from any wound so long as their actual nation still stands, so long as their connection to their people still remains. But sometimes wounds are brought on with emotional baggage and the marks of their scars will stay for ages. Gilbert has far too many crossing his rough pale skin, and Canada can only think of how he only has one or two of his own. 

How many betrayals has Gilbert experienced? How many shocks to his own inner self? How many stories are hiding behind each of these marks? 

The questions burn in his chest, but Canada bites them back. He knows Gilbert doesn’t like to talk of such things, and besides, now isn’t the time. Prussia definitely has other things on his mind now that he has been granted such permission. The albino nation leans down and brushes lips along Matthew’s cheek, down to his jaw, up toward his ear, then back down to his neck where he latches on harder to suck on the salty skin.

Matthew gasps at the feeling running through his veins and quickly reaches around to cling into Prussia’s back. This playful touch is nothing new to them. After a year, they’ve done many things that come before actual intercourse. Kissing, making out, even a bit of oral sex play, but nothing more. Nothing that went  _ too _ far, for Matthew had always reached a point where he felt too nervous to continue, too unwilling to commit  _ that _ much. 

Now things are different. Now he wants to explore his partner’s body in ways they haven’t yet, with the knowledge that what comes next will forever be with him. No matter what happens in the future, he won’t ever forget this moment. He won’t need anyone else. He wants Gilbert and only Gilbert.

The kisses continue down his neck and then back up to his jaw. Matthew moves his head to catch those lips in his own, to deepen it, to playfully tap tongues until the heat drives them both wild. He lets himself fall into the feelings, forgetting everything else but what’s happening here and now. No more thoughts about tomorrow. No more thoughts about the future. Tonight, this moment, is all that matters. 

Tingling heat spreads around his body and in no time at all, he’s helping Gilbert to remove his own clothes - a set of red pajamas that he must have changed into even while drunk earlier. The top goes away and the touches spread further, tugging at the pants, which Canada also helps to remove, though he groans and reaches up to tug at the waistband of Gilbert’s under shorts as well.

When their next kiss breaks for air, Matthew stares up at Gilbert’s eyes and pants. Their bodies are revealed completely to each other now and he has to take a moment to admire the uniquely pale skin of his partner. It feels like time slows as Gilbert moves away to rummage around in the top drawer of the nightstand, and Matthew stares at the toned hips and ass now in his view.

He licks his lips, ready to beg for more attention, but then Gilbert pulls back with a smirk and holds up a bottle of lotion. “Good. I thought I saw some of this in here earlier. You ready?”

Matthew gulps, knowing what it means, and he shakes a little despite his determination. “Y-yeah.”

“Hnn,” Gilbert frowns, holding the bottle in his hand, “I wonder…”

While Matthew sits up on his arms with a petulant pout on his face, Gilbert slides his back against the intricately designed headboard of the bed. He doesn’t understand what the albino nation is doing now. Why stop their intimacy? Why lean against the headboard? Why -? 

He gulps as he watches Gilbert squeeze lotion into his palm, watches as the man rubs his cock until it’s covered so well it’s practically dripping. Matthew swallows something in the back of his throat, feels his heartbeat spread. The blush on Gilbert’s face is enough to call him cute. Everything else is enough to make fire race through his body. He needs more now. So much more.

So he crawls over and then hesitates in front of his partner. “What are you doing?”

“Hnng,” Gilbert moans, one eye open. “Getting myself ready for you. It’s your first time, right?”

“Uh - uhm - y-yeah?”

The albino smirks. “Then take charge and lower yourself on me as fast or as slow as you want. That’ll keep you from getting hurt.”

“O-oh,” Canada flushes amid a weak, embarrassed smile. “Okay.”

The lotion bottle is tossed to the side, and Gilbert leans in to connect their lips. A spark of electric tingles shoot from his tongue all the way down Matthew’s throat and he moans in pleasure. He’s so on edge. Might be best to stop thinking how he’s going to do it and focus on the moment. Trust in himself the way Gilbert trusts in him.

Then there’s a feeling near in his ass and he moans against the kiss, leaning in further so his sounds will be swallowed. He can feel the heat from Gilbert’s body, most especially the one thing he’s yearning for now. While Prussia pulls him in close and lifts him up, he’s stretching his hole with delicate fingers, warming things up for the big moment. 

Matthew pants as he pulls away from the kiss, opening his eyes to stare at the hazy red of his partner, his lover, his  _ everything _ . Gilbert reaches up and runs a clean set of fingers over Matthew’s face, toying with the long blond bangs of his hair. Then he smiles - a  _ real _ smile that Matthew knows has been so hard to earn from him - and it gives Canada all the push he needs to set his hands on Prussia’s shoulders and line himself up and lower his body down onto Gilbert.

A hiss escapes them both at the contact, as they connect in a deeper way. Panting heavily, Canada squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on relaxing. He’s been warned before about what to do, about what to maybe expect, but it still makes his heart rate speed up and throb in his ears. He bites his lower lip and lifts up, only to come down slowly, pushing in further this time. Slowly, gently, all at his own pace, while Gilbert holds his hips and whispers sweet things into his neck, landing kisses that make him shiver. 

Hands run up his side and Canada feels comforted by the fact that even Gilbert’s hands are trembling. At least he knows he’s not the only one getting lost in the moment. He has never felt something so special, so unexplainable, so warm and filling. He needs more, so after settling down and becoming accustomed to the feeling, he lifts up and pushes down again, searching for that friction, needing harder and faster.

At some point, he knocks his forehead against Gilbert and begs for help. While it feels wonderful to have control over something so intimate, so precious, the longer they go, the harder it is to focus. He’s breathless. Kisses and touches and so much more. Gasping for Gilbert to take charge leads to Prussia picking him up and laying him among the pillows and blankets of the bed. 

Then he’s looking up as Gilbert smirks at him. Those hazy red eyes are only half open and Canada moans loudly as the albino nation slides into him again. Oh, yes, the pace and angle is so much better from here. Gripping onto Prussia’s back, he digs his fingers in, looking for anything to cling to as the work is taken from him. And he loves every thrust, every further connection, deeper, deeper, harder, faster. 

His moans switch to cries and he finds silvery white hair to grip into, clawing at Gilbert’s neck while the albino nation gasps and moans along with him. Lips touch his own, then fall away to land on his eyes and his forehead. Little, sweet pecks to juxtapose the harsh pounding down below, and it makes Matthew shudder as the world falls away. 

A hand reaches between them and he practically yelps when Prussia pumps him in rhythm with his thrusts. So much attention. So much  _ loving _ attention. He cries out Gil’s name between his pants, and his toes curl as the experience comes to its height. A long, low moan follows the cry and as his seed drips from his member, he feels Gilbert bite into his neck to hide a cry from the albino while the man comes inside him. 

For a few moments, the world is nothing but the two of them, basking in the glow of being together so completely. Gilbert mutters an “I love you,” in German and Matthew responds in French and then they both say it in English with a light chuckle. After that, the night turns into sweet cuddling and Matthew falls asleep in the arms of the one he never wants to leave...

...knowing that tomorrow he’ll have to say goodbye anyway.


	14. Chapter 14

14

25 February 1947

A day he will never be able to forget.

Prussia can already feel the strange tug in the center of his being, like something inside him is trying to break free, when the door to his prison is opened. He looks up from his seat on a stack of boxes and forces a smirk for the nation that stands in the doorway. Of course Arthur would be the one to lead him to his death, his green eyes at least having the decency to appear faded, his cheeks drawn, his hair disheveled. 

For a moment, he catches something familiar in that gaze. No pity for what’s about to come. Just respect for the past, respect for who he was, who  _ they _ were, as if Arthur is finally looking beyond his people’s emotions and able to realize what their leaders are doing. The ache in Prussia’s chest is from more than trepidation and fear of the future; there’s a physical pain that’s been growing by the hour. He knows what’s coming; he can taste it. Even so far from his own people, he can feel their anger about what the other nations are putting into law. 

Once those signatures sign whatever documents, Prussia will cease to exist.

Suppressing a shudder, Prussia climbs off the boxes and dusts off his navy blue pants. He would have liked to be in his uniform when it came to such a moment - because his military has always meant a lot to him - but no one has allowed him to visit Berlin even to check on his house. Gilbird flits from the open window (complete with bars to discourage him from breaking out) and lands on his shoulder. With a soft smile, Prussia runs a finger across the yellow bird’s chest feathers and earns a nonsensical cheep in response.

“Gilbert,” Arthur says into the awkward silence. “It’s time.”

Prussia turns his gaze to the other nation and grins. “Yeah, I know.”

“You know?” Arthur raises one of his thick blond eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“I can feel the tension. It’s hard to explain.”

“Hm.” 

Arthur’s grunt doesn’t really give anything away, but the glance over his shoulder tells enough. Even though it’s too late now, the great British Empire seems to be second guessing this decision. No pity. Just an almost palpable sadness hovering around the blond-haired green-eyed nation who still acts like he sits on top of the world.

And he kind of does, Prussia tells himself. Arthur does have that whole empire and all. Something Prussia wishes he could have experienced at least once in his existence. He can’t imagine leading so  _ many _ people of all kinds of different backgrounds and nationalities, but he aches for that kind of power all the same. He’ll never have it all, but he had something great once upon a time.

That’ll have to be enough of a legacy.

“Well,” Arthur says, clearing his throat. “Come on, then.”

“Right,” Prussia nods and then mumbles under his breath. “Might as well get it over with.”

A sharp glance jerks toward him, but Gilbert waves it off. Gilbird tweets something about Canada being nearby, which catches his attention, and he can’t help but look around the halls when Arthur finally leads him out of the small room. He’s been in Arthur’s home the whole time, in a room hidden away and probably meant to act as a place for extra storage, but it has a decent bed and full windows (barred though they are) and everything that makes a room feel homey and comfortable. Except for the fact that he couldn’t leave, of course. 

So now he gets to walk around and admire the paintings hanging on the walls. Arthur has always liked to fancy up his living space with all the proper decorations. A framed map of the British Empire - or well, stages of it - line one wall and Gilbert chuckles. The imperialism is catchy. Interesting to see no sign of America on any of the maps, though Canada is highlighted. Arthur probably doesn’t like any reminder that one of his favorite colonies left him.

Speaking of Canada, if Gilbird says he’s supposed to be around, where is he then? Surely Arthur wouldn’t allow one of his imperialistic conquests in such an important meeting, especially not after learning how much Matthew and Gilbert meant to each other. He growls at the reminder. He still needs to find a way to trip up Arthur for pulling them apart, though bragging about fucking his precious, innocent, little Canada has been a fun jab from time to time.

“Here we are,” Arthur says, opening a door and gesturing for Prussia to walk in first. “The others are already waiting.”

“Heh,” Gilbert scoffs. “So you’re all here, but I bet the papers aren’t even being signed here, are they?”

As he passes into the room, Gilbert catches a spark of frustration flash in Arthur’s eyes. Ah. So there’s been some fight between Arthur and his leaders. Interesting tidbit, that. 

“No,” Arthur growls under his breath. “They’re being signed in Berlin.”

Gilbert raises an eyebrow. “And you couldn’t bring me there?”

“Like it matters.”

Holding up his hands, Prussia smirks, though he knows not to press anymore. Arthur walks forward and leads him to a chair, which Gilbert absolutely refuses to sit in for now. He wants to meet the eyes of those responsible for this decision. 

Russia is one he’s not surprised at, and he shudders at Ivan’s little smile. The man behind the nation has been tipping into insanity bit by bit over the years. Friendly one second, snapping the next. There’s no telling what’s going on behind his purple eyes right now, no matter the smile on his face.

America is someone he should have expected, though the young nation climbing to the top of the world is glancing more at Russia than anyone else right now. Is there something between America and Russia? Or is it the whole Soviet Union thing? Hm. Another interesting tidbit that he won’t have any reason to remember, since he’ll no doubt be disappearing in a few minutes.

By all that’s holy in this world, he can already feel the tingle in his fingers and toes.  _ Something _ is about to happen to him. There’s no doubt about that anymore. He just hopes he can stand tall and proud as it washes over him. He won’t sit and take it, and he’ll refuse to fall for as long as possible. 

His heart skips a beat at seeing an old familiar friend seated there, too. Francis is worn and tired and refusing to meet his eyes. One of his closest friends. Prussia shuts his eyes and tries to banish the memories of him and Francis and Toni trapiezing around the world enjoying the mess out of life. And then wars have to come around and mess everything up.

“Francis,” he murmurs, opening his eyes. “You could at least look at me.”

France winces and lifts his head. “Mon dieu, Gil. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

“Uh huh, sure, too bad I don’t have any way to get you back later.”

A flash of something crosses through Francis’ blue eyes and Gilbert frowns. What is he missing? It’s not anger there. The tension isn’t right. Fear? For what?

And then Ivan starts to laugh and he understands. “Ah, Prussia. We have worked out a deal that should keep you alive if all goes according to plan, even if you lose your current nation.”

A shudder runs up his spine as he turns a glare on the cold nation. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you will see,” Ivan grins. “I do not want to spoil surprise too soon.”

Prussia grits his teeth, then turns a glare over his shoulder. “What’s he talking about, Arthur?”

Arthur frowns then shakes his head. Oh? Not going to explain? Just going to stand there and expect him to deal with Ivan’s cruel smile? Fine. If that’s how it’s going to be then -

A sharp stab of pain hits his chest and Gilbert stumbles back away from Ivan and the others. They’re all sitting comfortably in cushioned chairs at a crescent-shaped table. Gritting his teeth, Gilbert moves away from them and almost stumbles into the wooden chair they’ve left out for him to sit in. But no, he refuses. He won’t sit. 

Coming up from behind, Arthur sets a hand on his shoulder. “Seriously, Gil. I can’t imagine it’ll be easy when the document is signed. You should sit.”

Through clenched teeth, Prussia hisses. “I will stand or I will fall. I will not sit. I won’t accept this on any level.”

“Have it your way, then,” Arthur sighs. “But remember, I tried to be nice.”

“Yeah, right. If you were being nice you wouldn’t have relocated me -”

“ _ That _ was to protect Canada.”

“Keh.”

Another shot of pain nearly rocks his feet out from under him, but Prussia stands firm. Instead he glares out at the ones responsible for this decision. Sharp, stabbing pain may not have been what he expected in this moment, but it’s better than slowly fading away and forgetting everything. Though he may still fade after the pain knocks him out. 

Of course he’ll hold on for as long as possible but -

Damn it. It  _ hurts _ .

He’s gripping his chest over his heart when America speaks up. “Gilbert, uh, sorry, dude.”

Prussia raises his eyebrows and lifts his gaze to find the blue eyes hiding behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses. “Yeah? Sorry? Too late for that, isn’t it?”

America shifts awkwardly in his chair and then shoves a pair of clenched fists down on the table. “Look. We made a deal to separate you and Germany, basically. We’ll be keeping a watch over the Western half in separate districts and all, but the Eastern half…”

A grimace contorts Prussia’s face before he can hold it back. Then he turns his gaze to Ivan and glares back at the twitching smile. Oh. 

Oh  _ shit _ .

~!~

Canada frets and paces on the front porch outside England’s home. While he’s sure he’s seen multiple nations walk through these doors today, there hasn’t been any big announcement and England most certainly hasn’t come by to tell  _ him _ anything. Still.. He can  _ feel _ it. This worry and trepidation in the air. 

Maybe he’s going crazy. He hasn’t been able to think straight since Prussia was taken from him. He hasn’t even been allowed to  _ see _ the captive nation. Still captive? Why? Why not let Prussia return to Germany and help with reconstruction in his own nation? Why keep him here? 

Oh, sure, he knows the answers, but it’s been so  _ long _ . 

England isn’t in his usual office, so Canada is here, hoping to catch the man behind the nation. Of course, he’s already missed him. He’s missed them all. He’s already tried to catch France’s attention when he noticed the other nation walking through England’s gate, but to no avail. France had been too trapped in his own world to notice him.

Of course people rarely notice Canada in the first place. The reminder in his mind is full of bitter resentment. So many meetings where he just hangs in the background. So many moments where he tries to speak and no one listens, no one even bothers to acknowledge him. And now, when it could matter most, he still has no voice. 

He has to go back home soon. He’s been here too long. But he wants to at least see Prussia one more time, even if England refuses to let them touch or talk. If he could only see that silvery white hair and those hazy red eyes, he’d feel better knowing Gilbert has yet to disappear.

Though that moment may be coming sooner rather than later. He does have a terrible feeling about today, after all. A feeling he can’t shake no matter how much he paces and chews on his lip.

“Oi, you’re Canada, right?”

He spins at the voice and blinks at the child holding the front door open. The kid has dark brown hair and light brown eyes that gleam with mischief as he gestures with an oversized red sleeve. Canada takes a moment to rifle through his memories. 

Is that a chinese-type outfit? It sort of reminds him of something China might wear; something he’s seen the other nation in at the meetings. But not quite the same. And those red sleeves are definitely far too long for the boy’s skinny arms. 

“Hellooooo~”

“Oh! Uh - yes -” He jerks out of his thoughts and faces the child, giving a nod. “Yes. I’m Canada. You are…?”

“Hong Kong,” the kid says. “Did they forget you?”

“Excuse me?”

“The others. They’re having a meeting. It seems pretty secret.”

“Uh - well - do you know if Prussia is with them?”

“Hmm?” The child opens the door further and tilts his head, clinging to the door knob as he dances back and forth. “He’s the one England wants me to avoid, right?”

Canada blinks, then smiles at the thought. “Probably, yes.”

“Then, yeah, I think they have him there, too.” Suddenly, Hong Kong pulls back and points into the dark behind him. “Do you want to see? I know how we can watch without England catching us. I mean, he already knows we’re around since it’s his home and all, but we could get closer. If you want.”

So many things run through his mind at this little bit of information. Other nations are here. Prussia is in a meeting with them. A secret meeting that no one else has been informed about. Hong Kong here is one of the child nations that England has claimed as British Empire territory, but it’s weird to see him so openly dancing around England’s house. Canada hasn’t come into contact with the smaller territory very often, if at all. 

He’s probably seen England’s brothers more than someone like Hong Kong. So many people, so many nations, in the British Empire and they all so rarely meet up. Whatever the case the boy doesn’t remember Canada, but that’s not surprising. No one remembers him. 

Except Prussia. Prussia remembered him. 

He takes a deep breath and nods his head. If they’ve got Gilbert in a secret meeting, then the worst is probably about to happen. Documents being signed for Prussia’s dissolution, if what they’ve been talking about for so long has actually come to pass. He needs to be there. He wanted to be able to hold Gilbert’s hand in the moment, or stand there in support, but if he can’t do that much, then he needs to find another way to be present.

Even if it’s hiding in some hole in the background.

So he nods and smiles at Hong Kong, who stares back with dispassionate brown eyes. “Yes. I want to see. Whatever secret you know, please share it with me now.”

The boy tilts his head. “That’s a weird way to say it but okay. You’re part of the Empire, too, right? Don’t you know all the special secret passages in his house already?”

“Uh - no, not really,” Canada says, flushing as Hong Kong leads him into the house and shuts the door behind him. “I didn’t exactly grow up over here. I think England’s changed how he handles child nations since then.”

“Hm?” Hong Kong blinks up at him, oversized sleeves going to his mouth. “So you’re the reason he’s so overprotective and stuff?”

“Ah, actually, I don’t think that’s my fault.” Canada bites his lip. “I’d blame America for that one.”

“Hmmmm?” 

Hong Kong’s little noise grates on Canada’s nerves, but he holds his tongue and lets the child lead them around the mansion. He has no idea what it feels like to be a young nation growing up under England these days, but he knows what it’s like to be an adult still under the boot of the British Empire. Maybe Prussia is right and he should leave. 

But not now. He’ll think about those worries later. For now, he wants to focus on Prussia. On Gilbert. So he does his best to pacify Hong Kong’s curiosity with a tight smile. His heart is beating too fast to care about much else, and the other nation doesn’t seem all too inclined to continue their conversation anyway.

Though Hong Kong does keep glancing at him with those passive brown eyes. Like he wants to say something but he knows better than to voice whatever is going through his mind. Canada tries not to let it bother him. Kids will be kids, after all. Even if they are nations.

Eventually, Hong Kong leads him to a bookcase, which he points at as if it explains everything. So Canada raises an eyebrow and turns on the child. “What? I don’t understand.”

“There’s a door behind there,” Hong Kong mumbles. “It leads you down into the basement. Then from there you can find another set of stairs that lead to the room he’s got closed off right now.”

Canada blinks. “Huh? Secret passages behind bookcases? Are you serious? That sounds like one of his stories.”

“It’s not a story. He does magic down there and stuff.”

Gaping at the boy, Canada slowly sets a hand on the bookshelf. “Okay. Show me.” 

The child nation doesn’t so much as nod before he grabs one of the books on the bottom and moves it to the center. Canada watches as Hong Kong squats down and rummages around the space the book previously occupied. The soft click is his only warning. The bookcase slides off to the slide and reveals a hole in the wall with stairs leading down into darkness.

Matthew feels his mouth fall open. With all of England’s spy stories and such, he had never expected the man to create something like  _ this _ in his own house. It really does feel like it comes out of a fairytale. Or some story England used to tell him when he was young and far more accepting of those crazy fantasies.

“I can’t believe this is real,” Canada murmurs. “And he actually does magic down there?”

Hong Kong shuffles up next to Canada’s leg. “I don’t like the dark.”

Blinking at the strange unprovoked statement, he turns to the child nation. “But you act like you’ve been down there before.”

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t like the dark.”

“Noted,” Matthew mutters, then holds his hand out to the child. “You won’t be going down there alone. He might have candles or a lamp down there, too.”

Hong Kong shrugs but takes his hand. “If you can find them, I guess.”

“Oh, well, I hope we can.”

Guiding Hong Kong through the dark, Canada steps down the stairs and tries not to hold his breath. He can’t believe something like this exists in England’s house. It’s been how many years since he started coming to London and only  _ now _ thanks to another child conquest of the British Empire is he seeing all this? It’s unbelievable. 

A part of him has always known that England liked to dabble in dart arts of wizardry and whatever else, but to realize he actually has a basement - a  _ secret _ basement - for all of his crazy magic pursuits? Canada has to shake his head and hold back laughter and wonder all at the same time. 

Once they’re a good distance down the stairs, he pauses and looks back. He forgot to make sure the shelf closed behind them. Wouldn’t someone else see? Sure, this is England’s house and everyone else here should be busy, but…

“It’ll close on its own,” Hong Kong says in a deadpan voice, as if reading his thoughts. “And I know how to find the way to open it again when we come back. A candle would still be nice, of course.”

“Of - of course,” Canada stammers, turning back to continue down the stairs. “You really do explore everything you can, don’t you?”

“Not much else to do around here. It’s kind of boring.”

“Heh. Weird. He always tried to give us his full attention.”

“You and...America?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he doesn’t pay attention to me,” Hong Kong says with a sigh. “I kind of wish he left me back at home instead of bringing me over here. I feel like I’m going to be cursed.”

Canada snickers at that one. “Don’t we all.”

Silence descends between them again until Canada finds the end of the stairs. He’s a little unsteady as he finds solid ground. When he squints, he assumes it’s rock and stone, too, with maybe a rug on the floor a little bit away from them. Interesting. This could be where England originally stayed when he was younger. This could mean England’s house and property is a lot older than any of them ever imagined. He can practically feel the historical significance of the area sinking into him, and it’s not even his land! 

Taking a deep breath, Canada lets it out slowly as he leads Hong Kong around to a wall. If England comes down here often, then there should be a place for candles and the like down here, right? Surely England wouldn’t come down every time with a candle or lamp in hand. Ah! This might yield results.

He sets his hand on some kind of furniture, what seems to be old wood by the broken feel scraping at his fingers. He touches lightly, hoping he doesn’t end up with splinters for all this searching. Parchments. Books. Squinting his eyes, he manages to make out the shadowy contours of an old desk of some sort with shelves above it.

On the desk it feels like he touches the coarse pages of an old book, so he moves his hand to a bottle and a quill. Wow. England really does keep to old habits when he’s alone,doesn’t he? Always a traditionalist. Canada sighs and is about to give up in his search for a candle when his hand runs across something cold to the touch. Cold, like an old metal. He frowns and tries to make out what he’s found with the little light in the area. Grasping what feels like a handle, he lifts the object out away from the desk and brings it close to his eyes.

“Oh, good,” Canada says with a light smile. “Now I just need to figure out how to light it.”

When he lowers the candle slightly, Hong Kong moves around and cups his hand around the wick. Canada is about to protest, but then light explodes into being and the child nation steps back, going back to a noticeable distance, oversized sleeves up against his mouth. Canada blinks at the fire now in his hands, the candle wax dripping into the cool iron holder. 

He turns to Hong Kong. “How did -”

“England isn’t the only one with magic,” Hong Kong states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You do know that, right?”

“Uh. No, I didn’t.” He clears his throat. “Did you learn from him?”

“Oh please,” the child says, rolling his eyes, the shadows playing against his brown eyes. “I’m from China. Eastern magic is very different and much older besides.”

“But you’re -”

“I still come from the East. It’s kind of inbred in us there.”

“Oh. Wow. Okay.”

Hong Kong nods slowly, his eyes dazing out before snapping back into focus and pointing toward a dark alcove in the stone basement. “This way. I think I can hear someone screaming.”

Canada is all too quick to follow.

~!~

Arthur Kirkland grimaces as Gilbert falls to the floor, gripping at his chest, and lets loose with the harshest scream yet. He can’t make himself move forward and help. The nation part of him doesn’t care enough about an enemy. Yet  _ his _ heart aches for a lost friend. 

They weren’t always close, of course. Friends and enemies around Europe can change at the flip of a coin, but when they did have an alliance, it was one Arthur enjoyed, no matter how much he scoffed at the raucous battle-loving bloodthirsty albino nation. Prussia never could keep himself under control when he went into a fight. He’d always been the stubborn asshole in the midst of a battle, relishing in the rush more than most of them. 

And it was Gilbert’s fault that things fell apart with America. Arthur swallows a scowl at the memory, glancing over to the adult nation in his thoughts. America had grown up too fast, sure, but England should have been able to keep that upstart brat in his territory. He would have been such an amazing asset to the British Empire had he stayed. But Prussia had to go and fight Austria on Europe after their alliance while France caused problems all over the rest of his territory and it just hadn’t been worth it to his country’s leaders to make America heel to his power.

Now, though, now America is a superpower in his own right. Now, Alfred stands beside him instead of behind him. It won’t be long before the one he raised steps in front and takes over the world in England’s place, though the boy goes about it differently. 

Another scream from Gilbert breaks England’s thoughts. This isn’t about America now. He needs to focus. He doesn’t  _ want _ to focus on his friend’s pain, but he needs to stand by and witness what he’s done. He’s been part of the council responsible for all this pain on one of their own. 

Sure, his own nation, his leaders, are completely against Prussia and the Prussian ideals, but tearing the nation’s heart out of Gilbert is going to go down as one of the worst things Arthur has ever done. He can’t believe it’s come to this. Beating each other in battle in one thing. Conquering other nations and taking them under his wing… that’s all normal. Imperialism is the current state of the world, even though he feels it trying to change. 

But this? 

_ God, what have I done? _

A bird tweets and flies around, landing on the back of the chair that Gilbert had so obstinately refused to sit in. England frowns at the yellow chick, hardly having noticed its presence this whole time. He supposes he’s been too used to seeing that spark of yellow hanging around the albino nation. 

He stares at the bird now, wondering what, if anything, it could be saying to Gilbert. Those two have been closer than England and his magical creatures. Gilbird, as he’s known. It’ll be interesting to see such a tiny chick flying around Russia’s territory from now on. He shudders just thinking of it. 

Thankfully, he won’t have to face it himself. Things are tense with the Soviet Union. England has a feeling they always will be, even if he’s been counted as an ally during this war. One cannot easily forget the past, after all. Arthur spares a glance back toward his secret passage down to his old basement, frowning at the sense of someone watching. Focusing in on the feeling, he ends up rolling his eyes.

Hopefully Canada doesn’t do anything drastic.

~!~

Canada has to hold himself back from doing something drastic as he watches the proceedings behind the safety of this secret passage. Hong Kong graciously pulled out the correct wooden panels of the bookshelf, along with pushing aside the necessary books, to create a space for them to watch everything happening the room beyond. This allowed Matthew to see the special council consisting of France, America, the Soviet Union, and England either sitting at the half moon table or standing nearby while Prussia screamed in obvious agony. No one did a thing to help the poor nation, either; they simply watched - or avoided watching depending on the nation. 

Canada wants to break through the shelf so bad as he listens to the man he loves releasing such agonized sounds. Instead, he has to hold himself back and twitch with the effort. His hands clench by his sides and his teeth chew into his bottom lip. 

He can’t believe it’s actually happening now. Prussia is officially losing his nation, then. Nothing he did may any sort of dent in their plans. He should have tried harder. They must have been something he could have done to prevent this. Even if no one takes him seriously, someone should have listened to him if he pressed long enough. 

But, no, it’s too late. It’s too late for wishing he had done more. Too late for trying. It’s been done and Prussia is in pain. Gilbert is in pain. 

“Damn it,” he whispers. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

Vision blurring, he pulls away from the hole and sits down against the nearby wall. Lowering his head, he tries to banish the sound of Gilbert’s screams. He knows he won’t ever forget the image of the one he loves writing on the ground like that. He knows he’ll always blame himself for not trying harder to convince the others. 

When the noise comes to an abrupt halt, Canada lifts his head, eyes wide. That can’t mean he’s disappeared, right? He can’t be gone. Bringing a hand to his own chest, Matthew fights the tears as much as possible. He’s too scared to look. 

“Huh,” Hong Kong says into the silence. “That big guy is picking him up now. I wonder why.”

Canada jerks his head up. “Wait. What?”

“The big guy in all the winter clothes. He’s picked up Prussia and is taking him out. Guess he passed out or something.”

“Wait. Really?”

“How many times do you want me to say it?” Hong Kong snaps, showing more emotion in his voice than he has thus far. “My English isn’t  _ that _ bad, is it?”

“Oh, uh, no, sorry,” Canada says, getting to his feet; he looks through the hole to see what Hong Kong is talking about, and then spins around. “I have to catch them before they leave. I need to know what’s happening now.”

“Hey, don’t leave me!”

At Hong Kong’s cry, Canada rolls his eyes but makes sure to grab the child nation by the hand before rushing down the steps. He takes them two at a time, one hand on Hong Kong, the other holding the candle. Once he gets down to the bottom floor, he searches for the exit stairway, getting more frustrated as the seconds tick by. 

Finally, Hong Kong nudges him and snatches at the candle. Canada hands the light over, and then the child nation points with his sleeve toward a dark opening. Taking the hint, Matthew nods, then races into the dark, finding a familiar stairway that leads him up to the first bookcase. He leaves Hong Kong behind with the light, but in no time he’s out of the secret passages and into the hallway like a normal person again.

Okay, front door. Without a second thought, he rushes down the halls until he reaches the front door of England’s home. He pushes the door open and sees Russia carrying a still unconscious Prussia in his arms. Or, well, it’s not Prussia anymore. Whatever. Gilbert wouldn’t care. In fact, Gil would probably like to still be called Prussia, even if he’s representing something else now, or representing no one. 

“Wait!”

Russia turns around and hums. “Oh. Canada. Interesting.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Matthew says, swallowing as he tries to catch his breath. “Where are you taking him?”

“Hm? Oh, Prussia is one of mine now, so he will live with me.” Russia smiles. “He will be good part of family.”

“He - what?”

“The territory he controls will no more be called Prussia, but he still under me now. Maybe one day you will be part of family as well,  _ da _ ?”

Bringing a hand to his pounding heart, Canada laughs lightly. “Yeah, I don’t think so. No offense.”

Russia nods his head in acquiescence and then turns around. “I must be going now. It is long way to home.”

“Ah - but -”

“Canada!” This exclamation comes from England, who puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him from running. “Don’t interfere.”

With wide eyes, he spins to face England. “But!”

A little yellow bird flies through the air, cheeps near his face, and then lands on his shoulder. Matthew blinks at the strange occurrence, then stares at England’s shaking head. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. Prussia is no longer Prussia. He understands  _ that _ much, but what does Russia mean by him being under Soviet control now?

He clenches his jaw and bares his teeth at England, brushing the hand from his shoulder. “What did you  _ do _ ?”

England narrows his eyes at his attitude, but he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Germany is split in two between Western and Eastern halves. Gilbert now represents the Eastern side, and Russia will oversee him as we oversee the West.”

“You - you can’t -”

“You sound like Gilbert. Whatever your feelings on the matter, Canada, it’s been done and nothing will change it now.”

“But that’s just -” Canada clenches his hands and spins around to view Russia disappearing with Gilbert. “I’m glad he’s alive, but -”

The bird chirps again and Matthew lifts his head to see the yellow chick flying around his head. He stares for a while, not understanding, and then it dawns on him at last. That’s Gilbird. The bird that’s always with Gilbert. Why is he not with his owner? Why is he here?

Holding out his palm, he waits for the bird to land, then stares back into the tiny black eyes. He puffs out his breath and takes in a slow, deep one in its stead. Did Gilbert really leave the bird with him? Why? What could that possibly mean? It’s not like  _ he _ could communicate with the little yellow chick.

“Matthieu,” says a voice very different from England’s. Matthew lifts his gaze to meet the kind, but awfully sad eyes of France. “That bird is special. You should try writing a letter to Gilbert. He’ll take it to him wherever he ends up.”

“Write a letter?” Matthew tilts his head. “Really?”

England rolls his eyes and glares at France. “Get off my property, frog. You’re no longer needed here.”

France shrugs but turns a smile to Canada as he walks down the front porch steps. “Believe me, Matthieu. That’s why he’s left you Gilbird. Gil wouldn’t give up his precious bird otherwise.”

“Oh,” Matthew breathes, staring at the bird who was now cleaning his feathers. “Okay. I will.”

_ I will write so many letters he’ll grow sick of me. Until we can meet again, at least. However long that takes. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) One of my favorite history factoids is that Frederick the Great of Prussia made an alliance with Britain and then went and decided the alliance meant he could attack Austria; Britain was not happy because they were dealing with issues in the New World at the time. 
> 
> 2)Hong Kong's outfit is called a "duangua" I believe - forgive Canada for not knowing the exact word lol


End file.
